NORTHWEST! 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


NORTHWEST  ! 

THE  MAN  FROM  THE  WILDS 

KIT  MUSGRAVE'S  LUCK 

LISTER'S  GREAT  ADVENTURE 

THE  WILDERNESS  MINE 

WYNDHAM'S  PAL 

PARTNERS  OF  THE  OUT-TRAIL 

THE  BUCCANEER  FARMER 

THE  LURE  OF  THE  NORTH 

THE  GIRL  FROM  KELLER'S 

CARMEN'S  MESSENGER 

JOHNSTONE  OF  THE  BORDER 

THE  COAST  OF  ADVENTURE 

HARDING  OF  ALLENWOOD 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  REEF 

FOR  THE  ALLISON  HONOR 

THE  INTRIGUERS 

PRESCOTT  OF  SASKATCHEWAN 

RANCHING  FOR  SYLVIA 

THE  LONG  PORTAGE 

A  PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP 

SYDNEY  CARTERET,  RANCHER 

THE  GREATER  POWER 

THRICE  ARMED 

LORIMER  OF  THE  NORTHWEST 

DELILAH  OF  THE  SNOWS 

FOR  JACINTA 

WINSTON  OF  THE  PRAIRIE 

THE  DUST  OF  CONFLICT 

THE  CATTLE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER 


NORTHWEST! 

By    HAROLD    BINDLOSS 

Author  of  "THE   MAN   FROM  THE  WILDS,"   "LIS- 
TER'S    GREAT    ADVENTURE,"     "WYNDHAM'S    PAL," 
"PARTNERS  OF  THE  OUT-TRAIL,"     "THE  LURE  OF 
THE  NORTH,"  ETC. 

i 

NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

Copyright,  1922,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


PUBLISHED  IN  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  TITLE 
"THE  MOUNTAINEERS" 

All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


1*003 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 
I 

JIMMY  SIGNS  A  NOTE 

PAGE 

.       .         1 

II 

JIMMY'S  APOLOGY 

.       .         9 

III 

THE  CAYUSE  PONY    . 

.       .       19 

IV 

KELSHOPE  RANCH 

.       .       29 

V 

JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST  . 

.       .       38 

VI 

DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT  . 

.       .       47 

VII 

AN  INSURABLE  INTEREST 

.       .       56 

VIII 

JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK 

.       .       67 

IX 

THE  QUIET  WOODS    . 

.       .       78 

X 

LAURA'S  REFUSAL 

.       .      87 

XI 

THE  GAME  RESERVE 

.       .98 

XII 

STANNARD  FRONTS  A  CRISIS    . 

.       .     108 

XIII 

THE  DESERTED  HOMESTEAD 

.      .     117 

XIV 

A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK     . 

.       .     126 

XV 

TROOPER  SIMPSON'S  PRISONERS 

.       .     135 

XVI 

THE  NECK  

.       .     144 

XVII 

DILLON  MEDITATES    . 

.       .     152 

XVIII 

THE  CARTRIDGE  BELT 

.       .     162 

XIX 

USEFUL  FRIENDS 

.       .     171 

XX 

BOB'S  DENIAL      .... 

.     182 

XXI 

DEERING'S  EXCURSION 

.       .     190 

XXII 

DEERING  TAKES  COUNSEL 

.       .     200 

XXIII 

MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE  . 

.       .     208 

XXIV 

JIMMY  RESIGNS  HIMSELF 

.       .     218 

XXV 

THE  CALL    

227 

XXVI 

DEERING  TAKES  THE  TRAIL    , 

236 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  **C* 

XXVII    DEERING'S  PROGRESS 245 

XXVIII  A  DISSOLVING  PICTURE    ....  254 

XXIX    HELD  UP 263 

XXX    THE  GULLY 274 

XXXI    STANNARD'S  LINE 281 

XXXII    BY  THE  CAMP-FIRE 288 

XXXIII  SIR  JAMES  APPROVES        .       .       .       .297 


NORTHWEST! 


NORTHWEST! 


JIMMY   SIGNS   A   NOTE 

THE  small  room  at  the  Canadian  hotel  was  hot 
and  smelt  of  cigar-smoke  and  liquor.  Stannard 
put  down  his  cards,  shrugged  resignedly,  and  opened 
the  window.  Deering  smiled  and  pulled  a  pile  of 
paper  money  across  the  table.  He  was  strongly  built 
and  belonged  to  a  mountaineering  club,  but  he  was 
fat  and  his  American  dinner  jacket  looked  uncom- 
fortably tight. 

Deering's  habit  was  to  smile,  and  Jimmy  Leyland 
had  liked  his  knowing  twinkle.  Somehow  it  hinted 
that  you  could  not  cheat  Deering,  but  if  you  were 
his  friend  you  could  trust  him,  and  he  would  see  you 
out.  Now,  however,  Jimmy  thought  he  grinned.  Jim- 
my had  reckoned  on  winning  the  pool,  but  Deering 
had  picked  up  the  money  he  imagined  was  his. 

Jackson  wiped  a  spot  of  liquor  from  his  white 
shirt  and  gave  the  boy  a  sympathetic  glance.  Jackson 
was  thin,  dark-skinned  and  grave,  and  although  he 
did  not  talk  much  about  himself,  Jimmy  understood 


2  NORTHWEST! 

he  was  rather  an  important  gentleman  in  Carolina. 
Stannard  had  indicated  something-  like  this.  Stan- 
nard  and  Jimmy  were  frankly  English,  but  Jimmy  was 
young  and  the  other's  hair  was  touched  by  white. 

Yet  Stannard  was  athletic,  and  at  Parisian  clubs 
and  Swiss  hotels  men  talked  about  his  fencing  and 
his  exploits  on  the  rocks.  He  was  not  a  big  man, 
but  now  his  thin  jacket  was  open,  the  moulding  of  his 
chest  and  the  curve  to  his  black  silk  belt  were  Greek. 
All  the  same,  one  rather  got  a  sense  of  cultivation  than 
strength;  Stannard  looked  thoroughbred,  and  Jimmy 
was  proud  he  was  his  friend. 

Jimmy  was  not  cultivated.  He  was  a  careless, 
frank  and  muscular  English  lad,  but  he  was  not  al- 
together raw,  because  he  knew  London  and  Paris  and 
had  for  some  time  enjoyed  Stannard's  society.  His 
manufacturing  relations  in  Lancashire  thought  him  an 
extravagant  fool,  and  perhaps  had  grounds  for  doing 
so,  for  since  Jimmy  had  broken  their  firm  control  his 
prudence  was  not  marked. 

"I  must  brace  up.  Let's  stop  for  a  few  minutes," 
he  said  and  went  to  the  window. 

The  room  was  on  the  second  floor,  and  the  window 
opening  on  top  of  the  veranda,  commanded  the  val- 
ley. Across  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  hotel,  dark 
pines  rolled  down  to  the  river,  and  the  water  sparkled 
in  the  moon.  On  the  other  side  a  belt  of  mist  floated 
about  the  mountain  slope  and  dark  rocks  went  up  and 
melted  in  the  snow.  The  broken  white  line  ran  far 
North  and  was  lost  in  the  distance.  One  smelt  the 


JIMMY  SIGNS  A  NOTE  3 

sweet  resinous  scents  the  soft  Chinook  wind  blew 
across  the  wilderness. 

Jimmy's  glance  rested  on  the  river  and  the  vague 
blue-white  field  of  ice  from  which  the  green  flood 
sprang.  Now  the  electric  elevators  had  stopped,  the 
angry  current's  measured  throb  rolled  across  the  pines. 
But  for  this,  all  was  very  quiet,  and  the  other  windows 
opening  on  the  veranda  were  blank.  Jimmy  remem- 
bered the  hotel  manager  himself  had  some  time  since 
firmly  put  out  the  billiard-room  lights,  when  Jimmy 
was  about  ten  dollars  up  at  pool.  He  had  afterwards 
won  a  much  larger  sum  at  cards,  but  his  luck  had  be- 
gun to  turn. 

By  and  by  Stannard  came  out  and  jumped  on  the 
high  top  rail.  The  light  from  the  window  touched  his 
face,  and  his  profile,  cutting  against  the  dark,  was 
good  and  firmly  lined.  His  balance  on  the  narrow  rail 
was  like  a  boy's. 

"If  you  carried  my  weight,  you  wouldn't  get  up  like 
that.  Two  hundred  pounds  wants  some  moving," 
Deering  remarked  with  a  noisy  laugh. 

"I've  known  you  move  about  an  icy  slope  pretty 
fast,"  said  Stannard,  and  taking  his  hands  from  the 
rail,  pulled  out  his  watch.  "Two  o'clock!"  he  re- 
sumed and  gave  Jimmy  a  smile.  "I  rather  think  you 
ought  to  go  to  bed.  You  have  not  got  Deering's 
steadiness  and  still  are  a  few  dollars  up.  To  stop 
when  your  luck  is  good  is  a  useful  plan." 

"My  legs  are  steadier  than  my  head,"  Deering  re- 
joined. "When  I  played  the  ten-spot  Jimmy  saw  my 


4  NORTHWEST! 

game.     Cost  me  five  dollars.     I  reckon  I  ought  to  go 
to  bed!" 

Jimmy  frowned.  He  was  persuaded  he  was  sober, 
and  although  Stannard  was  a  very  good  sort,  some- 
times his  fatherly  admonition  jarred.  Then  he  had 
won  a  good  sum  from  Stannard  and  must  not  be 
shabby.  The  strange  thing  was  he  could  not  remem- 
ber how  much  he  had  won. 

"To  stop  as  soon  as  my  luck  turns  is  not  my  plan," 
he  said.  "I  feel  I  owe  you  a  chance  to  get  your  own 
back." 

"Oh,  well!  If  you  feel  like  that,  we  had  better 
go  on;  but  your  fastidiousness  may  cost  you  some- 
thing," Stannard  remarked,  and  Deering  hit  Jimmy's 
back. 

"You're  a  sport;  I  like  you!  Play  up  and  play 
straight's  your  rule." 

Jimmy  was  flattered,  although  he  doubted  Deer- 
ing's  soberness.  He  did  play  straight,  and  when  he 
won  he  did  not  go  off  with  a  wallet ful  of  his  friends' 
money.  All  the  same,  Jackson's  bored  look  annoyed 
him,  since  it  rather  indicated  that  he  was  willing  to 
indulge  Jimmy  than  that  he  noted  his  scrupulous  fair- 
ness. Jimmy  resolved  to  banish  the  fellow's  languor, 
and  when  they  went  back  to  the  card  table  demanded 
that  they  put  up  the  stakes.  Jackson  agreed  resignedly, 
and  they  resumed  the  game. 

The  room  got  hotter  and  the  cigar-smoke  was 
thick.  Sometimes  Stannard  went  to  the  ice-pail  and 
mixed  a  cooling  drink.  Jimmy  meant  to  use  caution, 


JIMMY  SIGNS  A  NOTE  5 

but  his  luck  had  turned,  and  excitement  parched  his 
mouth.  By  and  by  Stannard,  who  was  dealing, 
stopped. 

"Your  play  is  wild,  Jimmy,"  he  remarked.  "I 
think  you  have  had  enough." 

Jimmy  turned  to  the  others.  His  face  was  red  and 
his  gesture  boyishly  theatrical. 

"I  play  for  sport,  not  for  dollars.  I  don't  want 
your  money,  and  now  you're  getting  something  back, 
we'll  put  up  the  bets  again." 

"Then,  since  your  wad  is  nearly  gone,  somebody 
must  keep  the  score,"  said  Jackson,  and  Stannard  pulled 
out  his  note-book. 

Jimmy  took  another  drink  and  tried  to  brace  up. 
His  luck,  like  his  roll  of  bills,  was  obviously  gone,  but 
when  he  was  winning  the  others  had  not  stopped,  and 
he  did  not  want  them,  so  to  speak,  to  let  him  off.  When 
he  lost  he  could  pay.  But  this  was  not  important,  and 
he  must  concentrate  on  his  cards.  The  cards  got  worse 
and  as  a  rule  the  ace  he  thought  one  antagonist  had 
was  played  by  another.  At  length  Stannard  pushed 
back  his  chair  from  the  table. 

"Three  o'clock  and  I  have  had  enough,"  he  said, 
and  turned  to  Jimmy.  "Do  you  know  how  much  you 
are  down?" 

Jimmy  did  not  know,  but  he  imagined  the  sum  was 
large,  and  when  Stannard  began  to  reckon  he  went 
to  the  window.  Day  was  breaking  and  mist  rolled 
about  the  pines.  The  snow  was  gray  and  the  high 
rocks  were  blurred  and  dark.  Jimmy  heard  the  river 


6  NORTHWEST! 

and  the  wind  in  the  trees.  The  cold  braced  him  and 
he  vaguely  felt  the  landscape's  austerity.  His  head 
was  getting  steadier,  and  perhaps  it  was  the  contrast, 
but  when  he  turned  and  looked  about  the  room  he  was 
conscious  of  something  like  disgust.  Stannard,  oc- 
cupied with  his  pencil,  knitted  his  brows,  and  now 
his  graceful  carelessness  was  not  marked;  Jimmy 
thought  his  look  hard  and  calculating.  Yet  Stannard 
was  his  friend  and  model.  He  admitted  he  was  highly 
strung  and  perhaps  his  imagination  cheated  him. 

He  was  not  cheated  about  the  others.  Now  a  reac- 
tion from  the  excitement  had  begun,  he  saw  Deering 
and  Jackson  as  he  had  not  seen  them  before.  Deer- 
ing's  grin  was  sottish,  the  fellow  was  grossly  fat,  and 
he  fixed  his  greedy  glance  on  Stannard's  note-book. 
Jackson,  standing  behind  Stannard,  studied  the  calcu- 
lations, as  if  he  meant  to  satisfy  himself  the  sum  was 
correct.  Jimmy  thought  them  impatient  to  know  their 
share  and  their  keenness  annoyed  him.  Then  Stannard 
put  up  his  book. 

"It  looks  as  if  your  resolve  to  play  up  was  rash," 
he  remarked  and  stated  the  sum  Jimmy  owed.  "Can 
you  meet  the  reckoning?" 

"You  know  I'm  broke.  You're  my  banker  and 
must  fix  it  for  me." 

Stannard  nodded.  "Very  well!  What  about  your 
bet  in  the  billiard-room?" 

"Nothing  about  it.    I  made  the  stroke." 

Deering  grinned  indulgently,  and  when  Jackson 
shrugged,  Jimmy's  face  got  red. 


JIMMY  SIGNS  A  NOTE  7 

"If  they're  not  satisfied,  give  them  the  lot;  I  don't 
dispute  about  things  like  that,"  he  said  haughtily. 
"Write  an  acknowledgment  for  all  I  owe  and  I'll  sign 
the  note." 

Stannard  wrote  and  tore  the  leaf  from  his  note- 
book, but  he  now  used  a  fountain  pen.  Jimmy  took 
the  pen,  signed  the  acknowledgment  and  went  off. 
When  he  had  gone  Deering  looked  at  Stannard  and 
laughed. 

"Your  touch  is  light,  but  if  the  boy  begins  to  feel 
your  hand  he'll  kick.  Anyhow,  I'll  take  my  wad." 

Stannard  gave  him  a  roll  of  paper  money  and  turned 
to  Jackson. 

"I'll  take  mine,"  said  Jackson.  "In  the  morning  I 
pull  out." 

"You  stated  you  meant  to  stop  for  a  time." 

"There's  nothing  in  the  game  for  me,  and  I  don't 
see  what  Deering  expects  to  get,"  said  Jackson  in  a 
languid  voice.  "I  doubt  if  you'll  keep  him  long;  the 
boys  in  his  home  section,  on  the  coast,  reckon  he 
puts  up  a  square  deal.  Anyhow,  you  can't  have  my 
help." 

Stannard  gave  him  a  searching  glance  and  Deering 
straightened  his  big  body.  Jackson's  glance  was 
quietly  scornful. 

"A  hundred  dollars  is  a  useful  sum,  but  my  mark's 
higher,  and  I  play  with  men.  Maybe  I'll  meet  up  with 
some  rich  tourists  at  the  Banff  hotels,"  he  resumed, 
and  giving  the  others  a  careless  nod,  went  off. 

"A  queer  fellow,  but  sometimes  his  mood  is  nasty," 


8  NORTHWEST! 

said  Deering.  "I  felt  I'd  like  to  throw  him  over  the 
rails." 

"As  a  rule,  his  sort  carry  a  gun,"  Stannard  re- 
marked. 

Deering  wiped  some  liquor  from  the  table,  picked 
up  Jimmy's  glass,  which  was  on  the  floor,  and  put 
away  the  cards. 

"In  the  morning  you  had  better  give  the  China  boy 
two  dollars,"  he  said  in  a  meaning  voice,  and  when  he 
went  to  the  door  Stannard  put  out  the  light. 


II 

JIMMY'S  APOLOGY 

TN  the  morning  Jimmy  leaned,  rather  moodily, 
•*•  against  the  terrace  wall.  There  was  no  garden, 
for  the  hotel  occupied  a  narrow  shelf  on  the  hillside, 
and  from  the  terrace  one  looked  down  on  the  tops  of 
dusky  pines.  The  building  was  new,  and  so  far  the 
guests  were  not  numerous,  but  the  manager  claimed 
that  when  the  charm  of  the  neighborhood  was  known, 
summer  tourists  and  mountaineers  would  have  no  use 
for  Banff. 

Perhaps  his  hopefulness  was  justified,  for  all  round 
the  hotel  primeval  forest  met  untrodden  snow,  and 
at  the  head  of  the  valley  a  glacier  dropped  to  a  calm 
green  lake.  A  few  miles  south  was  a  small  flag-sta- 
tion, and  sometimes  one  heard  a  heavy  freight  train 
rumble  in  the  woods.  When  the  distant  noise  died 
away  all  was  very  quiet  but  for  the  throb  of  falling 
water. 

Jimmy  had  not  enjoyed  his  breakfast,  and  when  he 
lighted  a  cigarette  the  tobacco  did  not  taste  good.  He 
admitted  that  he  had  been  carried  away,  and  now  he 
was  cool  he  reflected  that  his  rashness  had  cost  him 
a  large  sum  and  he  had  given  Stannard  another  note. 
He  was  young,  and  had  for  a  year  or  two  indulged  his 


10  NORTHWEST! 

youthful  craving  for  excitement,  but  he  began  to  doubt 
if  he  could  keep  it  up.  After  all,  he  had  inherited 
more  than  he  knew  from  his  sternly  business-like  and 
rather  parsimonious  ancestors.  Although  the  Leyland 
cotton  mills  were  now  famous  in  Lancashire,  Jimmy's 
grandfather  had  earned  day  wages  at  the  spinning 
frame. 

Jimmy  felt  dull  and  thought  a  day  on  the  rocks 
would  brace  him  up.  Since  his  object  for  the  Canadian 
excursion  was  to  shoot  a  mountain-sheep  and  climb  a 
peak  in  the  Rockies,  he  ought  to  get  into  trim.  Stan- 
nard  could  play  cards  all  night  and  start  fresh  in  the 
morning  on  an  adventure  that  tried  one's  nerve  and 
muscle,  but  Jimmy  admitted  he  could  not.  When  he 
loafed  about  hotel  rotundas  and  consumed  iced  drinks 
he  got  soft. 

After  a  time,  Laura  Stannard  crossed  the  veranda 
and  went  along  the  terrace.  Her  white  dress  was 
fashionable  and  she  wore  a  big  white  hat.  Her  hair 
and  eyes  were  black,  her  figure  was  gracefully  slender, 
and  her  carriage  was  good.  Jimmy  thought  her 
strangely  attractive,  but  did  not  altogether  know  if  she 
was  his  friend,  and  admitted  that  he  was  not  Laura's 
sort.  It  was  not  that  she  was  proud.  Something  about 
her  indicated  that  her  proper  background  was  an  old- 
fashioned  English  country  house ;  Jimmy  felt  his  was  a 
Lancashire  cotton  mill.  Laura  did  not  live  with  Stan- 
nard, but  she  joined  him  and  Jimmy  in  Switzerland 
not  long  before  they  started  for  Canada.  Stannard 
was  jealous  about  his  daughter  and  had  indicated  that 


JIMMY'S  APOLOGY  11 

his  friends  were  not  necessarily  hers.  Jimmy  had 
grounds  to  think  Stannard's  caution  justified. 

For  a  minute  or  two  Jimmy  left  the  girl  alone.  He 
imagined  if  Laura  were  willing  to  talk  to  him  she 
would  let  him  know.  She  went  to  the  end  of  the  ter- 
race, and  then  turning  opposite  a  bench,  looked  up  and 
smiled.  Jimmy  advanced  and  when  he  joined  her 
leaned  against  the  low  wall.  Laura  studied  him 
quietly  and  he  got  embarrassed.  Somehow  he  felt 
she  disapproved;  he  imagined  he  did  not  altogether 
look  as  if  he  had  got  up  after  a  night's  refreshing 
sleep. 

"You  got  breakfast  early,"  she  remarked. 

"That  is  so,"  Jimmy  agreed.  "A  fellow  at  my 
table  argues  about  our  slowness  in  the  Old  Country 
and  sometimes  one  would  sooner  be  quiet.  Then  I 
thought  I'd  go  off  and  see  if  I  could  reach  the  ice- 
fall  on  the  glacier;  after  the  sun  gets  hot  the  snow  is 
treacherous.  Anyhow,  you  have  come  down  as  soon 
as  me." 

"I  mean  to  go  on  the  lake  and  try  to  catch  a  trout." 

"Then,  I  hope  you'll  let  me  come.  You'll  want 
somebody  to  row  the  boat  and  use  the  landing-net." 

"The  hotel  guide  will  row  and  I  doubt  if  we'll  need 
the  landing-net,"  Laura  replied  and  gave  him  a  level 
glance.  "Besides,  I  shall  return  for  lunch  and  I 
rather  think  you  ought  to  go  for  a  long  climb.  When 
I  came  out,  you  looked  moody  and  slack." 

Jimmy  colored.  Although  he  was  embarrassed,  to 
know  Laura  had  bothered  to  remark  his  moodiness 


12  NORTHWEST! 

was  flattering ;  the  strange  thing  was,  when  she  crossed 
the  veranda  he  had  not  thought  she  saw  him.  Jimmy 
was  raw,  but  not  altogether  a  fool.  He  knew  Laura 
did  not  mean  him  to  go  with  her  to  the  lake. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said.  "When  one  loafs  about,  one 
does  get  slack." 

"You  are  young  and  ought  not  to  loaf." 

"I  imagine  I'm  a  little  older  than  you,"  Jimmy  re- 
joined with  a  twinkle. 

Laura  let  it  go.  As  a  rule,  she  did  not  take  the 
obvious  line,  and  although  she  knew  much  Jimmy 
did  not,  she  said,  "Are  you  old  enough  to  play  cards 
with  Jackson  and  Deering?" 

"One  must  pay  for  all  one  gets,  and,  in  a  sense,  I 
get  much  from  men  like  that,"  Jimmy  replied. 
"There's  something  one  likes  about  Jackson,  and  Deer- 
ing's  a  very  good  sort." 

"Are  you  ambitious  to  be  Deering's  sort?"  Laura 
asked. 

Jimmy  pondered.  It  was  obvious  she  knew  the  men 
were  Stannard's  friends,  and  she,  no  doubt,  knew  Stan- 
nard  was  a  keen  gambler.  The  ground  was  awkward 
and  he  must  use  some  caution. 

"Mr.  Stannard's  my  model,"  he  said. 

Laura's  glance  was  inscrutable.  Since  her  mother 
died  she  had  not  lived  with  Stannard  and  he  puzzled 
her.  Sometimes  she  was  disturbed  about  him,  and 
sometimes  she  was  jarred.  When  she  joined  him  for 
a  few  weeks  he  was  kind,  but  he  did  not  ask  for  her 
confidence  and  did  not  give  her  his. 


JIMMY'S  APOLOGY  13 

"It  looks  as  if  my  father's  attraction  for  you  was 
strong,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"That  is  so,"  Jimmy  declared  with  a  touch  of  en- 
thusiasm Laura  saw  was  sincere.  "Mr.  Stannard  has 
all  the  qualities  I'd  like  to  cultivate.  My  habit,  so  to 
speak,  is  to  shove  along  laboriously;  he  gets  where  he 
wants  without  an  effort.  On  the  trains  and  steamers 
he  gets  for  nothing  things  another  couldn't  buy,  and 
at  the  hotel  the  waiters  serve  him  first.  People  trust 
him  and  are  keen  about  his  society.  He's  urbane  and 
polished,  but  when  you  go  with  him  on  the  rocks  you 
note  his  steely  pluck.  When  I'm  stuck  and  daunted  he 
smiles,  and  somehow  I  get  up  the  awkward  slab.  Be- 
sides, he  stands  for  much  I  wanted  but  couldn't  get 
until  he  helped." 

"What  did  you  want?" 

"Excitement,  adventure,  and  the  friendship  of 
clever  people;  something  like  that,"  said  Jimmy  awk- 
wardly. "To  begin  with,  I'd  better  tell  you  about  my 
life  in  Lancashire,  but  I  expect  you're  bored " 

Laura  was  not  bored ;  in  fact,  her  curiosity  was  ex- 
cited. Stannard's  young  friends  were  numerous,  but 
when  he  opened  his  London  flat  to  them  she  stopped 
with  her  aunts.  Now  she  wondered  whether  it  was 
important  he  had  allowed  her  to  join  his  Canadian 
excursion. 

"I  am  not  at  all  bored,"  she  said. 

"Very  well.  My  father  died  long  since  and  I  went 
to  my  uncle's  house.  I'd  like  to  draw  Ardshaw  for 
you,  but  I  cannot.  Inside,  it's  overcrowded  by  clumsy 


14  NORTHWEST! 

Victorian  furniture;  outside  is  a  desolation  of  indus- 
trial ugliness.  Smoky  fields,  fenced  by  old  colliery 
ropes,  a  black  canal,  and  coalpit  winding  towers.  I 
went  to  school  on  board  a  steam  tram,  along  a  road 
bordered  all  the  way  by  miners'  cottages." 

"The  picture's  not  attractive,"  Laura  remarked. 
"Was  your  uncle  satisfied  with  his  house?" 

Jimmy  smiled.  "I  think  he  was  altogether  satisfied. 
The  Leylands  are  a  utilitarian  lot,  and  rather  like 
ugliness.  Our  interests  are  business,  and  religion  of  a 
stern  Puritanical  sort.  From  my  relations'  point  of 
view,  grace  and  beauty  are  snares.  Besides,  Dick  Ley- 
land  got  Ardshaw  cheap  and  I  expect  this  accounts 
for  much.  When  he  went  there  the  Leyland  mills 
were  small;  my  grandfather  had  not  long  started  on 
his  lucky  speculation." 

"But  after  a  time  you  went  away  to  school — a  public 
school?" 

"I  did  not.  I  imagined  it  was  obvious,"  said  Jimmy 
with  a  touch  of  dryness.  "I  went  to  the  mill  office  and 
sat  under  a  gas-lamp,  writing  entries  in  the  stock- 
books,  from  nine  o'clock  until  six.  Dick  Leyland  had 
no  use  for  university  cultivation  and  my  aunt  was  per- 
suaded Oxford  was  a  haunt  of  profligates.  Well,  be- 
cause I  was  forced,  I  held  out  until  I  was  twenty-one. 
Then  I'd  had  enough  and  I  went  to  London." 

"Were  your  relations  willing  for  you  to  go?" 

"They  were  not  at  all  willing,  but  I  inherit  a  third- 
part  of  the  Leyland  mills.  For  all  that,  unless  my 
trustees  approve,  I  cannot,  for  another  two  or  three 


JIMMY'S  APOLOGY  15 

years,  use  control,  and  the  sum  I  may  spend  is  fixed. 
Well,  perhaps  you  can  picture  my  launching  out  in 
town.  I  had  no  rules  to  go  by;  I  wore  the  stamp  of 
the  cotton  mill  and  a  second-class  school.  For  five 
years  I'd  earned  a  small  clerk's  pay,  and  now,  by  con- 
trast, I  was  rich." 

Laura  could  picture  it.  The  boy's  reaction  from  his 
uncle's  firm  and  parsimonious  guardianship  was  nat- 
ural, and  she  studied  him  with  fresh  curiosity.  He  was 
tall  but  rather  loosely  built,  and  his  look  was  apologetic, 
as  if  he  had  not  yet  got  a  man's  strength  and  confi- 
dence. One  noted  the  stamp  of  the  cotton  mill.  As 
a  rule  Jimmy  was  generous  and  extravagant ;  but  some- 
times he  was  strangely  business-like. 

"Were  you  satisfied  with  your  experiment?"  she 
asked. 

"I  expect  you're  tired.  If  you  were  not  kind,  you'd 
have  sent  me  off/' 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Laura.  "I  like  to  study  people, 
and  your  story  has  a  human  touch.  In  a  way,  it's  the 
revolt  of  youth." 

"Oh,  well;  I  expect  one  does  not  often  get  all  one 
thinks  to  get.  I  wanted  the  cultivation  Oxford  might 
have  given  me ;  I  wanted  to  know  people  of  your  sort, 
who  don't  bother  about  business,  but  hunt  and  fish  and 
shoot.  Well,  I  can  throw  a  dry-fly  and  hold  a  gun 
straight;  but  after  all  I'm  Jimmy  Leyland,  from  the 
mills  in  Lancashire." 

Laura  liked  his  honesty,  but  his  voice  was  now  not 
apologetic.  She  rather  thought  it  proud. 


16  NORTHWEST! 

"You  met  my  father  in  Switzerland?"  she  said. 

"At  Chamonix,  about  a  year  ago.  When  I  met 
Mr.  Stannard  my  luck  was  good.  I'd  got  into  the 
wrong  lot;  they  used  me  and  laughed.  Well,  your 
father  showed  me  where  I  was  going  and  sent  the 
others  off.  Perhaps  you  know  how  he  does  things  like 
that?  He's  urban,  but  very  firm.  Anyhow,  the 
others  went  and  I've  had  numerous  grounds  to  trust 
Mr.  Stannard  since." 

Jimmy  lighted  a  cigarette.  Perhaps  he  ought  to  go, 
but  Laura's  interest  was  flattering  and  she  had  not 
allowed  him  to  talk  like  this  before.  In  fact,  he  rather 
wondered  why  she  had  done  so.  In  the  meantime 
Laura  pondered  his  artless  narrative.  His  liking  her 
father  was  not  strange,  for  Stannard' s  charm  was 
strong,  but  Laura  imagined  to  enjoy  his  society  cost  his 
young  friends  something.  Perhaps  it  had  cost  Jimmy 
something,  for  he  had  stated  that  one  must  pay  for  all 
one  got.  He  was  obviously  willing  to  pay,  but  Laura 
was  puzzled.  If  his  uncle's  portrait  was  accurate,  she 
imagined  the  sum  Jimmy  was  allowed  to  spend  was  not 
large. 

"One  ought  to  have  an  object  and  know  where 
one  means  to  go,"  she  remarked.  "When  you  look 
ahead,  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"In  the  meantime,  I'll  let  Mr.  Stannard  indicate 
the  way,"  said  Jimmy  with  a  smile.  "On  the  whole, 
I  expect  Dick  Leyland  would  sooner  I  didn't  meddle 
at  the  office,  but  after  a  year  or  two  I'll  probably  go 


JIMMY'S  APOLOGY  17 

back.  You  see,  Dick  has  no  children  and  Jim's  not 
married.  To  carry  on  Leyland's  is  my  job." 

"Who  is  Jim?" 

"Sir  James  Leyland,  knight.  In  Lancashire  we 
have  not  much  use  for  titles;  the  head  of  the  house  is 
Jim  and  I'm  Jimmy.  Perhaps  the  diminutive  is  im- 
portant." 

"But  suppose  your  uncles  did  not  approve  your 
carrying  on  the  house?" 

"Then,  I  imagine  they  could,  for  a  time,  force  me 
to  leave  the  mills  alone.  However,  although  Dick  is 
very  like  a  machine,  I've  some  grounds  to  think  Jim 
human.  All  the  same,  I  hardly  know  him.  He's  at 
Bombay;  the  house  transacts  much  business  in  India. 
But  I  must  have  bored  you  and  you  haven't  got  break- 
fast. I  suppose  you  really  won't  let  me  row  the  boat?" 

Laura  pondered.  Her  curiosity  was  not  altogether 
satisfied  and  she  now  was  willing  for  Jimmy  to  join 
her  on  the  lake.  Yet  she  had  refused,  and  after  his 
frank  statement,  she  had  better  not  agree. 

"I  have  engaged  the  hotel  guide,  Miss  Grant  is 
going,  and  the  boat  is  small,"  she  said.  "Besides, 
when  one  means  to  catch  trout  one  must  concentrate." 

Jimmy  went  off  and  Laura  knitted  her  brows.  She 
knew  Jimmy's  habit  was  not  to  boast,  and  if  she  had 
understood  him  properly,  he  would  by  and  by  control 
the  fortunes  of  the  famous  manufacturing  house.  Her 
father's  plan  was  rather  obvious,  and  the  blood  came 
to  Laura's  skin.  She  knew  something  about  poverty 


18  NORTHWEST! 

and  admitted  that  when  she  married  her  marriage  must 
be  good,  but  she  was  not  an  adventuress.  Yet  Jimmy 
was  rather  a  handsome  fellow  and  had  some  attractive 
qualities. 


Ill 

THE    CAYUSE    PONY 

'"T^HE  afternoon  was  hot,  the  little  wineberry  bushes 
-*-  were  soft,  and  Jimmy  lay  in  a  big  hemlock's 
shade.  A  few  yards  in  front,  a  falling  pine  had  broken 
the  row  of  straight  red  trunks,  and  in  the  gap  shining 
snow  peaks  cut  the  serene  sky.  Below,  the  trees  rolled 
down  the  hillside,  and  at  the  bottom  a  river  sparkled. 
Rivers,  however,  were  numerous,  the  bush  on  the  hill- 
bench  Jimmy  had  crossed  was  thick,  and  he  frankly 
did  not  know  where  he  had  come  down.  If  the  hotel 
was  in  the  valley,  he  need  not  bother,  but  he  doubted, 
and  was  not  keen  about  climbing  another  mountain 
spur.  In  the  meantime,  he  smoked  his  pipe  and  mused. 

He  owed  Stannard  rather  a  large  sum.  They  went 
about  to  shooting  parties  at  country  houses  and  lodges 
by  Scottish  salmon  rivers.  Visiting  with  Stannard's 
sporting  friends  was  expensive  and  he  allowed  Jimmy 
to  bear  the  cost.  Jimmy  was  willing  and  made  Stan- 
nard his  banker;  now  and  then  they  reckoned  up  and 
Jimmy  gave  him  an  acknowledgment  for  the  debt. 
Although  Stannard  stated  he  was  poor,  his  habits  were 
extravagant  and  somehow  he  got  money. 

Yet  Jimmy  did  not  think  Stannard  exploited  him. 

He  had  found  his  advice  good  and  Stannard  had  saved 

19 


20  NORTHWEST! 

him  from  some  awkward  entanglements.  In  fact, 
Stannard  was  his  friend,  and  although  his  friendship 
was  perhaps  expensive,  in  a  year  or  two  Jimmy  would 
be  rich.  Since  his  parsimonious  uncle  had  not  let  him 
go  to  a  university,  his  spending  a  good  sum  was  jus~ 
tified,  and  to  go  about  with  Stannard  was  a  liberal 
education.  Perhaps,  for  a  careless  young  fellow,  Jim- 
my's argument  was  strangely  commercial,  but  he  was 
the  son  of  a  keen  and  frugal  business  man. 

Then  he  began  to  muse  about  Laura.  Her  beauty 
and  refinement  attracted  him,  but  he  imagined  Laura 
knew  his  drawbacks,  and  to  imagine  Stannard  had 
planned  for  him  to  marry  her  was  ridiculous.  Stan- 
nard was  not  like  that,  and  when  Laura  was  with  him 
saw  that  Jimmy  did  not  get  much  of  her  society.  In 
fact,  had  she  not  come  down  for  breakfast  before  the 
other  guests,  Jimmy  imagined  he  would  not  have  en- 
joyed a  confidential  talk  with  her.  All  the  same,  to 
loaf  in  the  shade  and  dwell  on  Laura's  charm  was 
soothing. 

In  the  meantime,  he  was  hungry,  and  he  had  not 
bothered  to  carry  his  lunch.  When  he  got  breakfast 
he  had  not  much  appetite.  Since  morning  he  had 
scrambled  about  the  rocks,  and  he  thought  the  hotel 
was  some  distance  off.  Getting  up  with  something  of 
an  effort,  he  plunged  down  hill  through  the  underbrush. 
At  the  bottom  he  stopped  and  frowned.  He  ought  not 
to  have  lost  his  breath,  but  he  had  done  so  and  his 
heart  beat.  It  looked  as  if  he  must  cut  out  strong 
cigars  and  iced  liquor. 


21 

A  few  yards  off  a  trail  went  up  the  valley  and 
slanted  sunbeams  crossed  the  narrow  opening.  Jimmy 
thought  he  heard  a  horse's  feet  and  resolved  to  wait 
and  ask  about  the  hotel.  He  was  in  the  shade,  but 
for  a  short  distance  the  spot  commanded  the  trail. 

The  beat  of  horse's  feet  got  louder  and  a  girl  rode 
out  from  the  gap  in  the  dark  pine  branches.  A  sun- 
beam touched  her  and  her  hair,  and  the  steel  buckle 
in  her  soft  felt  hat  shone.  She  rode  astride  and  wore 
fringed  leggings  and  a  jacket  of  soft  deerskin.  Her 
figure  was  graceful  and  she  swung  easily  with  the 
horse's  stride.  Her  hair  was  like  gold  and  her  eyes 
were  deep  blue.  Jimmy  afterwards  thought  it  strange 
he  noted  so  much,  but  she,  so  to  speak,  sprang  from 
the  gloom  like  a  picture  on  a  film,  and  the  picture  held 
him. 

He  did  not  know  if  the  girl  was  beautiful,  but  in 
the  tangled  woods  her  charm  was  keen.  Her  dress 
harmonized  with  the  moss  on  the  tall  red  trunks,  and 
the  ripening  fern.  Something  primitive  and  strong 
marked  her  easy,  confident  pose.  The  horse,  an  In- 
dian cayuse,  tossed  its  head  and  glanced  about  ner- 
vously, as  if  its  habit  was  to  scent  danger  in  the  bush. 
Jimmy  sprang  from  primitive  stock  and  he  knew,  half 
instinctively,  the  girl's  type  was  his.  He  must,  how- 
ever, inquire  about  the  hotel,  and  he  pushed  through 
the  raspberries  by  the  trail. 

The  horse,  startled  by  the  noise,  stopped  and  tried 
to  turn.  The  girl  pulled  the  bridle  and  braced  herself 
back.  The  cayuse  jumped  like  a  cat,  plunged  forward, 


22  NORTHWEST! 

and  feeling  the  bit,  bucked  savagely.  Jimmy  wondered 
how  long  the  girl  would  stick  to  the  saddle,  but  after 
a  moment  or  two  the  cayuse  started  for  the  bush.  Jim- 
my thought  he  knew  the  trick,  for  when  a  cayuse  can- 
not buck  off  its  rider  it  goes  for  a  tree,  and  if  one 
keeps  one's  foot  in  the  stirrup,  one  risks  a  broken  leg. 
He  jumped  for  its  head  and  seized  the  links  at  the  bit. 

The  girl  ordered  him  to  let  go,  but  he  did  not.  He 
had  frightened  her  horse  and  must  not  allow  the  sav- 
age brute  to  jamb  her  against  a  tree.  Its  ears  were 
pressed  back  and  he  saw  its  teeth,  but  so  long  as  he 
stuck  to  the  bit,  it  could  not  seize  his  hand.  Then  it 
went  round  in  a  semi-circle,  the  link  twisted  and 
pinched  his  fingers,  and  he  knew  he  could  not  hold  on. 
The  animal's  head  went  up,  Jimmy  got  a  heavy  blow 
and  fell  across  the  trail.  A  few  moments  afterwards 
he  heard  a  beat  of  hoofs,  some  distance  off,  and  knew 
the  cayuse  was  gone.  The  girl,  breathing  rather  hard, 
leaned  against  a  trunk. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  Jimmy  gasped.  "I'll  find  out 
when  I  get  up." 

He  got  up  and  forced  a  smile.  "Anyhow,  nothing's 
broken.  Are  you  hurt?" 

"No,"  she  said.  "I'm  not  hurt,  but  I'm  angry. 
When  you  butted  in  I  couldn't  use  the  bridle." 

"I'm  sorry;  I  wanted  to  help.  However,  it  looks 
as  if  your  horse  had  run  away.  Have  you  far  to  go?" 

"The  ranch  is  three  miles  off." 

"How  far's  the  hotel?" 


THE  CAYUSE  PONY  23 

"If  you  go  by  the  trail,  about  eight  miles.  Perhaps 
four  miles,  if  you  cross  the  range." 

Jimmy  studied  the  thick  timber  and  the  steep  rocky 
slopes.  Pushing  through  tangled  underbrush  has 
drawbacks,  particularly  where  devil's-club  thorns  are 
numerous.  Besides,  he  had  got  a  nasty  knock  and  his 
leg  began  to  hurt.  Then  he  noted  a  cotton  flour  bag 
with  straps  attached  lying  in  the  trail. 

"I  think  I  won't  cross  the  range.  I  suppose  that  bag 
is  yours?" 

"It  is  mine.  They  put  our  groceries  off  the  train. 
I  reckon  the  bag  weighs  about  forty  pounds.  I  car- 
ried the  thing  on  the  front  of  the  saddle;  but  when 
you " 

Jimmy  nodded.  "When  I  butted  in  you  were 
forced  to  let  it  go !  Well,  since  I  frightened  your  horse, 
I  ought  to  carry  your  bag.  If  I  take  it  to  the  ranch, 
do  you  think  your  folks  would  give  me  supper." 

"It's  possible.    Can  you  carry  the  bag?" 

"I'll  try,"  said  Jimmy.  "Have  you  some  grounds 
to  doubt  ?" 

"Packing  a  load  over  a  rough  trail  is  not  as  easy 
as  it  looks,"  the  girl  rejoined  with  a  twinkle.  "Then 
I  expect  you're  a  tourist  tenderfoot." 

Jimmy  liked  her  smile  and  he  liked  her  voice.  Her 
Western  accent  was  not  marked  and  her  glance  was 
frank.  He  thought,  if  he  had  not  meddled,  she  would 
have  mastered  the  frightened  horse;  her  strength  and 
pluck  were  obvious.  In  the  meantime  his  leg  hurt  and 
he  could  not  examine  the  injury. 


24  NORTHWEST! 

"I  am  a  tourist,"  he  agreed.  "Since  I'm  going  to 
your  house,  perhaps  I  ought  to  state  that  I'm  Jimmy 
Leyland,  from  Lancashire  in  the  Old  Country." 

"I  am  Margaret  Jardine." 

"Then  you're  a  Scot?" 

"My  father  is  a  Scot,"  said  Margaret.  "I'm  Cana- 
dian." 

"Ah,"  said  Jimmy,  "I've  heard  something  like  that 
before  and  begin  to  see  what  it  implies.  Well,  it  looks 
as  if  you  were  an  independent  lot.  Is  one  allowed  to 
state  that  in  the  Old  Country  we  are  rather  proud  of 
you?" 

"Since  I'd  like  to  make  Kelshope  before  dark,  per- 
haps you  had  better  get  going,"  Margaret  remarked. 

Jimmy  picked  up  the  bag  and  fastened  the  deerskin 
straps,  by  which  it  hung  from  his  shoulders  like  a 
rucksack.  They  started,  and  for  a  time  he  kept  up 
with  Margaret,  but  he  did  not  talk.  The  pack  was 
heavy,  he  had  not  had  much  breakfast  and  had  gone 
without  his  lunch.  Besides,  his  leg  was  getting  very 
sore.  At  length  he  stopped  and  began  to  loose  the 
straps. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  take  a  smoke?"  he  asked. 

Margaret  looked  at  him  rather  hard,  but  said  she  did 
not  mind,  and  Jimmy,  indicating  a  cedar  log,  pulled  out 
his  cigarette  case. 

"Do  you  smoke  ?" 

"I  do  not.  In  the  bush,  we  haven't  yet  copied  the 
girls  at  the  hotels." 

"Now  I  think  about  it,  the  girls  who  smoked  at 


THE  CAYUSE  PONY  25 

the  Montreal  hotel  were  not  numerous,"  Jimmy  re- 
marked. "When  I  went  to  the  fishing  lodge  in  Scot- 
land, all  smoked,  but  then  Stannard's  friends  are  very 
much  up-to-date.  The  strange  thing  is,  we're  thought 
antiquated  in  the  Old  Country " 

He  stopped  and  tried  to  brace  up.  What  he  wanted 
to  state  eluded  him.  He  felt  cold  and  the  pines  across 
the  trail  got  indistinct. 

"You  see,  in  some  of  our  circles  we  rather  feel  our 
duty  is  to  be  modern,"  he  resumed  with  an  effort.  "I 
think  you're  not  like  that.  Canada's  a  new  country, 
but,  in  a  way,  one  feels  you're  really  older  than  we  are. 
We  have  got  artificial ;  you  are  flesh  and  blood " 

"Don't  talk!"  said  Margaret  firmly,  but  Jimmy 
thought  her  voice  was  faint,  and  for  a  few  moments 
the  tall  pines  melted  altogether. 

When  he  looked  up  Margaret  asked:  "Have  you 
got  a  tobacco  pouch?" 

Jimmy  gave  her  the  pouch  and  she  went  off.  He 
was  puzzled  and  rather  annoyed,  but  somehow  he 
could  not  get  on  his  feet.  By  and  by  Margaret  came 
back,  carrying  the  pouch  opened  like  a  double  cup. 
Jimmy  drank  some  water  and  the  numbness  began 
to  go. 

"You're  very  kind.  I  expect  I'm  ridiculous,"  he 
said. 

"I  was  not  kind.  I  let  you  carry  the  pack,  although 
the  cayuse  knocked  you  down." 

"Perhaps  the  knock  accounts  for  something,"  Jimmy 
remarked  in  a  languid  voice. 


26  NORTHWEST! 

He  had  got  a  nasty  knock,  but  he  imagined  Stan- 
nard's  cigars  and  Deering's  iced  drinks  were  really 
accountable.  In  the  meantime,  he  noted  that  Margaret 
was  wiping  his  tobacco  pouch. 

"You  mustn't  bother,"  he  resumed.  "Give  me  the 
thing." 

"But  when  it's  wet  you  cannot  put  in  the  tobacco." 

"I  thought  you  threw  away  the  stuff.  I  can  get 
another  lot  at  the  hotel." 

Margaret  brushed  the  tobacco  from  a  flake  of  bark, 
and  filled  the  pouch. 

"In  the  woods,  one  doesn't  throw  away  expensive 
tobacco." 

"Thanks!"  said  Jimmy.  "Some  time  since,  I  lived 
with  people  like  you." 

"Poor  and  frugal  people?" 

"No,"  said  Jimmy,  with  a  twinkle.  "Dick  and  his 
wife  were  rather  rich.  In  fact,  in  England,  I  think 
you  begin  to  use  economy  when  you  get  rich.  Any- 
how, it's  not  important,  and  you  needn't  bother  about 
me.  As  a  rule,  philosophizing  doesn't  knock  me  out. 
The  cayuse  kicked  pretty  hard.  Well,  suppose  we 
start?" 

He  got  up  and  when  Margaret  tried  to  take  the 
pack  he  pulled  it  away. 

"The  job's  mine.     I  undertook  to  carry  the  load." 

"But  you're  tired,  and  I  think  you're  lame." 

"We  won't  dispute,"  said  Jimmy.  "You  oughtn't  to 
dispute.  Perhaps  it's  strange,  but  one  feels  your  word 
ought  to  go." 


THE  CAYUSE  PONY  27 

"It  looks  as  if  my  word  did  not  go." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Jimmy,  "when  you  command  peo- 
ple, you  have  got  to  use  some  caution.  Much  depends 
on  whom  you  command,  and  in  Lancashire  we're  an 
obstinate  lot.  Anyhow,  I'll  take  the  bag." 

He  pushed  his  arms  through  the  straps  and  Mar- 
garet said  nothing.  She  might  have  taken  the  bag 
from  him,  but  to  use  force  was  not  dignified  and  she 
knew  to  let  her  carry  the  load  would  jar.  When  they 
set  off  she  noted  that  his  face  was  rather  white  and  his 
step  was  not  even.  He  had  obviously  got  a  nasty  kick, 
but  his  pluck  was  good. 

The  sun  went  down  behind  the  woods,  the  pines  got 
dim  and  sweet  resinous  scents  floated  about  the  trail. 
The  hum  of  insects  came  out  of  the  shadow,  and  Jimmy 
was  forced  to  rub  the  mosquitoes  from  his  neck.  To 
put  up  his  hands  was  awkward,  for  the  ground  was 
uneven,  and  he  must  balance  his  load.  He  could  not 
talk,  the  important  thing  was  to  reach  the  ranch  be- 
fore it  got  dark,  and  setting  his  mouth,  he  pushed 
ahead. 

At  length  Margaret  stopped  at  a  fence,  and  when  she 
began  to  pull  down  the  rails  Jimmy  leaned  against  a 
post.  The  rails  were  rudely  split,  and  the  zig-zag  fence 
was  locked  by  crossed  supports  and  not  fastened  by 
nails.  On  the  other  side,  where  timothy  grass  and  oats 
had  grown,  was  stubble,  dotted  by  tall  stumps  and  fern. 
A  belt  of  chopped  trees  surrounded  the  clearing,  and 
behind  the  tangled  belt  the  forest  rose  like  a  dark 
wall.  An  indistinct  log  house  and  barns  occupied  the 


28  NORTHWEST! 

other  end.  An  owl  swooped  noiselessly  across  the 
fence,  and  Jimmy  heard  the  distant  howl  of  a  timber 
wolf. 

"Kelshope  ranch,"  said  Margaret.  "The  path  goes 
to  the  house.  I  must  put  up  the  rails." 

Jimmy  went  through  the  gap.  Perhaps  it  was  sooth- 
ing quietness,  but  he  felt  he  liked  Kelshope  and  his 
curiosity  was  excited.  He  knew  the  big  Canadian 
hotels,  the  pullmans  and  observation-cars.  So  far, 
money  had  supplied  him,  as  in  London,  with  much  that 
made  life  smooth.  Now  he  was  to  see  something  of 
the  Canada  in  which  man  must  labor  for  all  he  gets. 
The  strange  thing  was,  he  felt  this  was  the  Canada 
he  really  ought  to  know. 


IV 

KELSHOPE   RANCH 

"DREAKFAST  was  over  at  Kelshope  ranch  and 
•*-*  Jimmy  occupied  a  log  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing. 
Although  his  muscles  were  sore,  he  felt  strangely  fresh 
and  somehow  satisfied.  At  the  hotel,  as  a  rule,  he  had 
not  felt  like  that.  His  leg  hurt,  but  his  host  had  doc- 
tored the  cut  with  some  American  liniment,  and  Jimmy 
was  content  to  rest  in  the  shade  and  look  about.  He 
thought  he  saw  the  whole  process  of  clearing  a  ranch. 
In  the  background,  was  virgin  forest;  pine,  spruce 
and  hemlock,  locking  their  dark  branches.  Then  one 
noted  the  slashing,  where  chopped  trees  had  fallen 
in  tangled  rows,  and  an  inner  belt  of  ashes  and  black- 
ened stumps.  Other  stumps,  surrounded  by  fern, 
checkered  the  oblong  of  cultivated  soil,  and  the  dew 
sparkled  on  the  short  oat  stubble.  The  oats  were  not 
grown  for  milling;  the  heads  were  small  and  Jardine 
cut  the  crop  for  hay.  The  garden-lot  and  house  occu- 
pied a  gentle  slope.  The  walls  were  built  of  logs, 
notched  and  crossed  at  the  corners;  cedar  shingles, 
split  by  hand  on  the  spot,  covered  the  roof.  Behind 
the  house,  one  saw  fruit  trees  and  log  barns.  Nothing 
was  factory-made,  and  Jimmy  thought  all  indicated 
strenuous  labor. 

29 


30  NORTHWEST! 

A  yard  or  two  off,  Jardine  rubbed  his  double-bitted 
axe  with  a  small  round  hone.  He  wore  a  gray  shirt, 
overalls  and  long  boots,  and  his  skin  was  very  brown. 
He  was  not  a  big  man,  but  he  looked  hard  and  muscu- 
lar and  his  glance  was  keen. 

"Ye  need  to  get  the  edge  good.  It  pays  to  keep  her 
sharp,"  he  said  and  tried  the  blade  with  his  thumb. 

"I  expect  that  is  so,"  Jimmy  agreed.  "Did  you, 
yourself,  clear  the  ranch?" 

"I  chopped  every  tree,  burned  the  slashing,  and  put 
up  the  house  and  barns.  Noo  I'm  getting  things  in 
trim  and  run  a  small  bunch  of  stock." 

Jimmy  thought  it  a  tremendous  undertaking;  the 
logs  stacked  ready  to  burn  were  two  or  three  feet  across 
the  butt. 

"How  long  were  you  occupied?"  he  asked. 

"Twelve  years,"  said  Jardine,  rather  drily.  "When 
the  country  doon  the  Eraser  began  to  open  up  I  sold 
my  other  ranch,  bought  two  or  three  building  lots  in 
a  new  town,  and  started  for  the  bush.  I  liked  this 
location  and  I  stopped." 

"But  can  you  get  your  stuff  to  a  market  ?" 

"Cows  can  walk,  but  when  ye  clear  a  bush  ranch  ye 
dinna  bother  much  about  selling  truck.  Ye  sit  tight 
until  the  Government  cuts  a  wagon  trail,  or  maybe  a 
railroad's  built,  and  the  settlements  spring  up." 

"And  then  you  expect  to  sell  for  a  good  price  all 
the  stuff  you  grow?" 

Jardine  smiled.  "Then  I  expect  to  sell  the  ranch 
and  push  on  again.  The  oldtime  bush-man  has  no 


KELSHOPE  RANCH  31 

use  for  game-wardens,  city  sports,  store-keepers  and 
real-estate  boomers " 

He  stopped  and  his  look  got  scornful.  Jimmy  found 
out  afterwards  that  the  pioneer  hates  the  business  man 
and  Jardine  sprang  from  Scottish  Border  stock.  Per- 
haps he  had  inherited  his  pride  and  independence  from 
salmon-poaching  ancestors.  What  he  wanted  he  lab- 
ored for;  to  traffic  was  not  his  plan. 

"Weel,"  he  resumed,  "I'd  better  get  busy.  After 
dinner  I'll  drive  ye  to  the  hotel." 

He  went  off,  and  although  Jimmy  had  expected  to 
lunch  at  the  hotel  he  was  satisfied  to  wait.  He  mused 
about  his  host.  Jardine  was  not  young,  but  he  car- 
ried himself  well  and  Jimmy  had  known  young  men 
who  did  not  move  like  him;  then  the  ranch  indicated 
his  talent  for  labor.  Yet  muscular  strength  was  ob- 
viously not  all  one  needed ;  to  front  and  remove  daunt- 
ing obstacles,  one  must  have  pluck  and  imagination. 
The  job  was  a  man's  job,  but,  in  a  sense,  the  qualities 
it  demanded  were  primitive,  and  Jimmy  began  to  see 
why  the  ranch  attracted  him.  His  grandfather  had 
labored  in  another's  mill;  the  house  of  Leyland's  was 
founded  on  stubborn  effort  and  stern  frugality. 

Jimmy  began  to  wonder  where  Jardine  fed  his 
cattle,  because  he  saw  none  in  the  clearing,  but  by 
and  by  a  distant  clash  of  bells  rolled  across  the  trees. 
Jimmy  had  heard  the  noise  before;  when  he  went  to 
sleep  and  again  at  daybreak,  a  faint,  elusive  chime  had 
broken  the  quietness  that  brooded  over  Kelshope  ranch. 
It  was  the  clash  of  cow-bells,  ringing  as  the  stock 


32  NORTHWEST! 

pushed  through  the  underbrush.  When  he  heard  a 
sharper  note  he  got  up  and,  for  his  leg  hurt,  went 
cautiously  into  the  woods. 

By  and  by  he  stopped  in  the  tall  fern.  Not  far  off 
Margaret,  holding  out  a  bunch  of  corn,  occupied  the 
middle  of  an  opening  in  which  little  red  wineberries 
grew.  Her  pose  was  graceful,  she  did  not  wear  a  hat, 
and  the  sun  was  on  her  hair.  Her  neck  was  very 
white,  and  then  her  skin  was  delicate  pink  that  deep- 
ened to  brown.  Her  dress  was  dull  blue  and  the  yel- 
low corn  forced  up  the  soft  color. 

"Oh,  Bright;  oh,  Buck!"  she  called,  and  Jimmy 
thought  her  voice  musical  like  the  chiming  bells. 

Where  the  sunbeams  pierced  the  shade  long  horns 
gleamed,  the  bells  rang  louder,  and  a  big  brown  ox 
looked  out,  fixed  its  quiet  eyes  on  the  girl,  and  van- 
ished noiselessly.  Margaret  did  not  move  at  all.  She 
was  still  as  the  trees  in  the  background,  and  Jimmy 
approved  her  quietness.  He  got  a  hint  of  balance, 
strength  and  calm. 

"Oh,  Bright!"  she  called,  and  a  brawny  red-and- 
white  animal  pushed  out  from  the  fern,  shook  its  mas- 
sive head,  and  advanced  to  smell  the  corn. 

Jimmy  now  saw  Margaret  carried  a  rope  in  her 
other  hand,  but  she  let  the  ox  eat  the  corn  and  stroked 
its  white  forehead  before  she  threw  the  rope  round 
its  horns.  Although  she  was  very  quick,  her  move- 
ments were  gentle  and  the  animal  stood  still.  Then 
she  looked  up  and  smiled. 


KELSHOPE  RANCH  33 

"You  can  come  out,  Mr.  Leyland." 

"You  knew  I  was  in  the  fern?" 

"Sure,"  said  Margaret.  "I  was  born  in  the  woods. 
All  the  same,  you  were  quiet.  I  reckon  you  can  be 
quiet.  In  the  bush,  that's  something." 

"You  imply  that  I  was  quiet,  for  a  tenderfoot?" 

"Why,  yes,"  Margaret  agreed,  smiling.  "As  a  rule, 
a  man  from  the  cities  can't  keep  still.  He  must  talk 
and  move  about.  You  didn't  feel  you  ought  to  come 
and  help?" 

Jimmy  wondered  whether  she  knew  he  had  wanted 
to  study  her,  but  thought  she  did  not.  Anyhow,  he 
was  satisfied  she,  so  to  speak,  had  not  posed  for  him. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "I  saw  you  knew  your  job, 
and  I  reflected  that  the  ox  did  not  know  me.  But  shall 
I  hold  him  until  you  catch  the  other?" 

"Buck  will  follow  his  mate,"  Margaret  replied,  and 
when  they  started  a  cow-bell  clashed  and  Buck  stole  out 
of  the  shade. 

Jimmy  thought  stole  the  proper  word.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  hear  branches  crack  and  underbrush  rustle, 
but  the  powerful  oxen  moved  almost  silently  through 
the  wood. 

"Now  I  see  why  you  give  them  bells,"  he  remarked. 
"But  doesn't  the  jangling  bother  the  animals?" 

"They  like  the  bells.  At  night  I  think  they  toss 
their  heads  to  hear  the  chime.  Then  they  know  the 
bells  are  useful.  Sometimes  when  all  is  quiet  the  cattle 
scatter,  but  when  the  timber  wolves  are  about  or  a 


34  NORTHWEST! 

cinnamon  bear  comes  down  the  rocks  the  herd  rolls  up. 
Bush  cattle  are  clever.  Now  Bright  feels  the  rope,  he's 
resigned  to  go  to  work." 

"You  know  the  woods.  Have  you  always  lived  at 
a  ranch?" 

"For  a  time  I  was  at  Toronto/'  Margaret  replied. 
"When  I  was  needed  at  Kelshope,  I  came  back." 

Jimmy  felt  she  baffled  him.  Margaret  had  not 
stated  her  occupation  at  Toronto,  but  he  had  remarked 
that  her  English  was  better  than  the  English  one  used 
at  the  cotton  mills.  After  all,  he  was  not  entitled  to 
satisfy  his  curiosity. 

"One  can  understand  Mr.  Jardine's  needing  you," 
he  said.  "I  expect  a  bush  rancher  is  forced  to  hustle." 

"A  bush  rancher  must  hustle  all  the  time,"  Margaret 
agreed.  "Still,  work  one  likes  goes  easily.  Have  you 
tried?" 

"I  have  tried  work  I  did  not  like  and  admit  I've 
had  enough,"  Jimmy  said,  and  laughed.  "When  I 
started  for  Canada,  my  notion  was  I'd  be  content  to 
play  about." 

Margaret  nodded.  "We  know  your  sort.  You  are 
not,  like  our  tourists,  merchants  and  manufacturers. 
You  have  no  use  for  business.  All  you  think  about  is 
sport,  and  your  sport's  extravagant.  You  stop  at  our 
big  hotels,  and  when  you  go  off  to  hunt  and  fish  you 
hire  a  gang  of  packers  to  carry  your  camp  truck." 

"I  doubt  if  I  really  am  that  sort,"  Jimmy  rejoined. 
"After  all,  my  people  are  pretty  keen  business  men, 
and  I  begin  to  see  that  to  cultivate  the  habits  of  the 


KELSHOPE  RANCH  35 

other  lot  is  harder  than  I  thought.  In  fact,  I  rather 
think  I'd  like  to  own  a  ranch." 

"For  a  game?"  said  Margaret  and  laughed,  a  frank 
laugh.  "You  must  cut  it  out,  Mr.  Leyland.  One 
can't  play  at  ranching,  and  you  don't  know  all  the  bush- 
man  is  up  against." 

"It's  possible,"  Jimmy  admitted.  "Well,  I  expect 
I  am  a  loafer,  but  I  did  not  altogether  joke  about  the 
ranch.  The  strange  thing  is,  after  a  time  loafing  gets 
monotonous." 

Margaret  stopped  him.  "I  must  get  busy  and  you 
ought  not  to  walk  about.  Sit  down  in  the  shade  and 
I'll  give  you  the  Colonist." 

Jimmy  sat  down,  but  declared  he  did  not  want  the 
newspaper.  He  thought  he  would  study  ranching,  par- 
ticularly Margaret's  part  of  the  job.  She  put  a 
heavy  wooden  yoke  on  the  oxen's  necks,  fastened  a 
rope  to  the  hook,  and  drove  the  animals  to  a  belt  of 
burned  slashing  where  big  charred  logs  lay  about. 
Jardine  hitched  the  rope  to  a  log  and  the  team  hauled 
it  slowly  to  a  pile.  Jimmy  wondered  how  two  people 
would  get  the  heavy  trunk  on  top,  but  when  Margaret 
led  the  oxen  round  the  pile  and  urged  them  ahead,  the 
log  went  up  in  a  loop  of  the  rope.  For  all  that,  Jar- 
dine  was  forced  to  use  a  handspike  and  Jimmy  saw 
that  to  build  a  log-pile  demanded  strength  and  skill. 

Resting  in  the  shade,  he  felt  the  picture's  quiet 
charm.  The  oxen's  movements  were  slow  and  rhyth- 
mical; Jardine's  muscular  figure,  bent,  got  tense,  and 
relaxed ;  the  girl,  finely  posed,  guided  the  plodding 


36  NORTHWEST! 

animals.  Behind  were  stiff,  dark  branches  and  rows  of 
straight  red  trunks.  A  woodpecker  tapped  a  hollow 
tree,  and  in  the  distance  cow-bells  chimed.  The  dom- 
inant note  was  effort,  but  the  effort  was  smooth  and 
measured.  One  felt  that  all  went  as  it  ought  to  go, 
and  Jimmy  thought  about  the  big  shining  flywheel  that 
spun  with  a  steady  throb  at  the  Leyland  cotton  mill. 
Then  his  head  began  to  nod  and  his  eyes  shut,  and 
when  he  looked  up  Margaret  called  him  to  dinner. 

After  dinner  Jardine  got  out  his  Clover-leaf  wagon 
and  drove  Jimmy  to  the  hotel.  When  they  arrived 
Jimmy  took  him  to  his  room  on  the  first  floor,  and 
meeting  Stannard  on  the  stairs,  was  rather  moved 
to  note  his  relief.  Stannard  declared  that  he  and 
some  others  had  searched  the  woods  since  daybreak 
and  were  about  to  start  for  the  ranch.  By  and  by 
Deering  joined  them  and  made  an  iced  drink.  Jardine, 
with  tranquil  enjoyment,  drained  his  long  glass,  and 
lighting  a  cigar,  began  to  talk  about  hunting  in  the 
bush.  His  clothes  were  old  and  his  hat  was  battered, 
but  his  calm  was  marked  and  Jimmy  thought  he 
studied  the  others  with  quiet  curiosity.  After  a  time 
they  went  off,  and  Jardine  gave  Jimmy  a  thoughtful 
smile. 

"Your  friends  are  polite  and  Mr.  Deering  can  mix 
a  drink  better  than  a  bar-keep." 

"Is  that  all?"  Jimmy  inquired. 

Jardine's  eyes  twinkled.  "Weel,  if  I  was  wanting 
somebody  to  see  me  out,  maybe  I'd  trust  the  big  fel- 
low." 


KELSHOPE  RANCH  37 

Jimmy  thought  his  remark  strange.  Stannard  was 
a  cultivated  gentleman  and  Deering  was  frankly  a 
gambler.  Yet  Jimmy  had  grounds  to  imagine  the 
old  rancher  was  not  a  fool.  He  was  puzzled  and 
rather  annoyed,  but  Jardine  said  he  must  not  stay 
and  Jimmy  let  him  go. 


JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST 

/"T"VHE  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  range,  and  the  sky 
•*•  was  green.  In  places  the  high  white  peaks  were 
touched  by  fading  pink;  the  snow  that  rolled  down 
to  the  timber-line  was  blue.  Mist  floated  about  the 
pines  by  the  river,  but  did  not  reach  the  hotel  terrace, 
and  the  evening  was  warm.  Looking  down  at  the 
dark  valley,  one  got  a  sense  of  space  and  height. 

At  the  end  of  the  terrace,  a  small  table  carried  a 
coffee  service,  and  Laura  occupied  a  basket  chair. 
She  smoked  a  cigarette  and  her  look  was  thoughtful. 
Jimmy,  sitting  opposite,  liked  her  fashionable  dinner 
dress.  He  had  met  Laura  in  Switzerland,  but  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  not  known  her  until  she  went  with  Stan- 
nard  to  the  Canadian  hotel.  In  fact,  he  imagined 
she  had  very  recently  begun  to  allow  him  to  know 
her.  Stannard  had  gone  off  a  few  minutes  since,  and 
Deering  was  playing  pool  with  a  young  American. 

"Since  you  came  back  from  the  ranch  I've  thought 
you  preoccupied,"  Laura  remarked. 

"I  expect  you  thought  me  dull,"  said  Jimmy  with 
an  apologetic  smile.  "Well,  for  some  days  I've  been 
pondering  things,  and  I'm  not  much  used  to  the  exer- 
cise. In  a  way,  you're  accountable.  You  inquired 

not  long  since  if  I  knew  where  I  went?" 

38 


JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST  39 

"Then  you  got  some  illumination  at  the  ranch?" 

"You're  keen.     I  got  disturbed." 

"Does  to  stop  at  a  ranch  disturb  one?"  Laura  asked 
in  a  careless  voice. 

"I  expect  it  depends  on  your  temperament,"  Jimmy 
replied  and  knitted  his  brows.  "Kelshope  is  a  model 
ranch ;  you  feel  all  goes  as  it  ought  to  go.  When  you 
leave  things  alone,  they  don't  go  like  that.  At  Jar- 
dine's  you  get  a  sense  of  plan  and  effort.  The  old 
fellow  and  his  daughter  are  keenly  occupied,  and 
their  occupation,  so  to  speak,  is  fruitful.  The  trouble 
is,  mine  is  not." 

Laura  saw  that  when  he,  some  time  since,  apolo- 
gized for  his  loafing,  her  remarks  had  carried  weight. 
Jimmy  had  begun  to  ponder  where  he  went,  and  she 
wondered  whether  he  would  see  he  ought  to  return  to 
the  cotton  mill.  Still  she  did  not  mean  to  talk  about 
this. 

"You  stopped  Miss  Jardine's  horse?"  she  said. 

"I  did  not  stop  the  horse.  I  tried,  but  that's  another 
thing.  If  I  had  not  meddled,  I  expect  Miss  Jardine 
would  have  conquered  the  nervous  brute  and  I  would 
not  have  got  a  nasty  kick." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Laura.  "Sometimes  to  meddle  is 
rash,  but  your  object  was  good." 

Then  Stannard  came  to  the  veranda  steps  and  looked 
about  the  terrace. 

"Hello,  Jimmy !  Deering  has  beaten  Frank  and  we 
must  arrange  about  our  excursion  to-morrow." 

Jimmy  frowned  and  hesitated.    When  he  had  talked 


40  NORTHWEST! 

to  Laura  before,  Stannard  had  called  him  away,  but 
he  thought  she  did  not  mean  him  to  stay  and  he 
went  off.  When  he  had  gone  Laura  mused. 

She  knew  Stannard  was  jealous  for  her.  He  did 
not  allow  her  to  join  him  when  his  young  friends 
were  about,  and  she  did  not  want  to  do  so.  For  the 
most  part  she  lived  with  her  mother's  relations,  who 
did  not  approve  of  Stannard  and  were  not  satisfied 
about  her  going  to  Canada. 

To  some  extent  Laura  imagined  their  doubts  were 
justified.  She  knew  Stannard  had  squandered  much 
of  her  mother's  fortune,  and  now  that  her  trustees 
guarded  the  small  sum  she  had  inherited,  he  was  poor. 
Yet  he  belonged  to  good  clubs  and  went  to  race  meet- 
ing and  shooting  parties.  It  looked  as  if  sport  and 
gambling  paid,  and  Laura  saw  what  this  implied. 
Yet  her  father  was  kind  and  when  she  was  with  him 
he  indulged  her. 

She  had  remarked  his  calling  Jimmy  away.  As  a 
rule,  his  touch  was  very  light,  and  she  wondered 
whether  he  had  meant  to  incite  the  young  fellow  by 
a  hint  of  disapproval;  but  perhaps  it  was  not  his  ob- 
ject and  she  speculated  about  Jimmy.  He  was  now 
not  the  raw  lad  she  had  known  in  Switzerland,  al- 
though he  was  losing  something  that  at  the  beginning 
had  attracted  her.  She  thought  he  ought  not  to  stay 
with  Stannard  and  particularly  with  Deering,  and  she 
had  tried  to  indicate  the  proper  line  for  him  to  take. 
Well,  suppose  he  resolved  to  go  back  to  Lancashire? 


JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST  41 

Laura  knew  her  charm  and  imagined,  if  she  were 
willing,  she  might  go  with  Jimmy.  Although  he  could 
not  yet  use  his  fortune,  he  was  rich,  and  after  a  time 
would  control  the  famous  manufacturing  house.  Be- 
sides, he  was  marked  by  some  qualities  she  liked. 
Laura  got  up  with  an  impatient  shrug,  and  blushed. 
She  would  not  think  about  it  yet.  She  was  poor,  but 
she  was  not  an  adventuress. 

In  the  morning,  Stannard,  Deering  and  Jimmy 
started  for  the  rocks.  Their  object  was  to  follow 
the  range  and  look  for  a  line  to  the  top  of  a  peak 
they  meant  to  climb  another  day.  They  lunched  on 
the  mountain,  and  in  the  afternoon  stopped  at  the 
side  of  a  gully  that  ran  down  to  the  glacier.  The 
back  of  the  gully  was  smooth,  and  the  pitch  was  steep, 
but  hardly  steep  enough  to  bother  an  athletic  man. 
In  places,  banks  of  small  gravel  rested,  although  it 
looked  as  if  a  disturbing  foot  would  send  down  the 
stones. 

Some  distance  above  the  spot,  the  top  of  another 
pitch  cut  a  background  of  broken  rocks,  streaked  by 
veins  of  snow.  The  sun  was  on  the  rocks  and  some 
shone  like  polished  steel,  but  the  gully  was  in  shadow 
and  Jimmy  had  felt  the  gloom  daunting.  Deering 
pulled  out  his  cigar-case.  His  face  was  red,  his  shirt 
was  open  and  his  sunburned  neck  was  like  a  bull's. 

"My  load's  two  hundred  pounds,  and  we  have 
shoved  along  pretty  fast  since  lunch,"  he  said.  "Any- 
how, I'm  going  to  stop  and  take  a  smoke." 


42  NORTHWEST! 

"To  lean  against  a  slippery  rock  won't  rest  you 
much,"  Stannard  remarked.  "We'll  get  on  to  the 
shelf  at  the  top  of  the  slab." 

"Then,  somebody's  got  to  boost  me  up,"  Deering 
declared,  and  when  Stannard  went  to  help,  put  his 
boot  on  the  other's  head  and  crushed  his  soft  hat  down 
to  his  ears. 

Next  moment  he  was  on  the  shelf  and  shouted  with 
laughter.  Sometimes  Deering's  humor  was  boyishly 
rude,  but  his  friends  were  not  cheated,  and  Jimmy 
thought  the  big  man  keen  and  resolute.  Stannard 
went  up  lightly,  as  if  it  did  not  bother  him.  He 
was  cool  and,  by  contrast  with  Deering,  looked  fas- 
tidiously refined.  Jimmy  imagined  he  had  an  object 
for  leaving  the  gully.  Stannard  knew  the  mountains ; 
in  fact,  he  knew  all  a  sporting  gentleman  ought  to 
know  and  Jimmy  was  satisfied  with  his  guide. 

"Since  you  reckon  we  ought  to  get  from  under, 
why'd  you  fix  on  this  line  down?"  Deering  inquired. 

"The  line's  good,  but  we  were  longer  than  I  thought, 
and  the  sun  has  been  for  some  time  on  the  snow." 

"Sure,"  said  Deering.  "The  blamed  trough  looks 
like  a  rubbish  shoot." 

Jimmy  had  trusted  Stannard's  judgment,  but  now 
he  saw  a  light;  for  one  thing,  the  back  of  the  gully 
was  smooth.  The  mountain  fronted  rather  north  of 
west,  and  so  long  as  the  frost  at  the  summit  held, 
the  party  did  not  run  much  risk,  but  when  the  thaw 
began  snow  and  broken  rocks  might  roll  down.  When 
Deering  had  nearly  smoked  his  cigar  he  looked  up. 


JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST  43 

"Something's  coming !" 

Jimmy  heard  a  rumble  and  a  crash.  A  big  stone 
leaped  down  the  gully,  struck  a  rock  and  vanished. 
A  bank  of  gravel  began  to  slip  away,  and  then  a 
gray  and  white  mass  swept  across  the  top  of  the 
pitch.  Snow  and  stones  poured  down  tumultuously, 
and  when  the  avalanche  was  gone  confused  echoes 
rolled  about  the  rocks. 

•  "That  fixes  it,"  said  Deering.  "I'm  going  the  other 
way.  Had  we  shoved  along  a  little  faster,  we  might 
have  made  it,  but  I  was  soft,  and  couldn't  hit  up  the 
pace."  He  laughed  his  boisterous  laugh  and  re- 
sumed :  "The  trouble  is,  I  played  cards  with  Jimmy 
when  I  ought  to  have  gone  to  bed.  Well,  since  we 
didn't  bring  a  rope,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"If  we  can  reach  the  top,  I  think  we  can  get  down 
along  the  edge,"  Stannard  replied. 

After  something  of  a  struggle,  they  got  up,  and 
for  a  time  to  follow  the  top  of  the  gully  was  not 
hard.  Then  they  stopped  on  an  awkward  pitch  where 
a  big  bulging  stone,  jambed  in  a  crack,  cut  their  view. 

"I'll  try  the  stone,  but  perhaps  you  had  better 
traverse  out  across  the  face  and  look  for  another  line," 
Deering  said  to  Stannard. 

Jimmy  went  with  Deering,  and  when  they  reached 
the  stone  saw  a  broken  shelf  three  or  four  yards  be- 
low. On  one  side,  the  rocks  dropped  straight  to  the 
gully;  in  front,  the  slope  beyond  the  shelf  was  steep. 
For  a  few  moments  Deering  studied  the  ground. 

"A  rope  would  be  useful,  but  if  we  can  reach  the 


44  NORTHWEST! 

shelf,  we  ought  to  get  down,"  he  said.  "I'll  try  to 
make  it.  Lie  across  the  stone  and  give  me  your 
hands." 

Jimmy  nodded.  At  an  awkward  spot  the  second 
man  helps  the  leader,  who  afterwards  steadies  him. 
The  rock  was  rough  and  a  small  knob  and  the  deep 
crack  promised  some  support.  Still,  caution  was  in- 
dicated, because  the  shelf,  on  which  one  must  drop, 
was  inclined  and  narrow.  Jimmy  lay  across  the  stone 
and  Deering,  slipping  over  the  edge,  seized  his  hands. 
He  was  a  big  fellow  and  Jimmy  thought  the  stone 
moved,  but  he  heard  Deering's  boots  scrape  the  rock 
and  the  strain  on  his  arms  was  less. 

Then  he  heard  another  noise,  and  snow  and  rocks 
and  a  broken  pine  rolled  down  the  gully.  The  ava- 
lanche vanished,  the  uproar  sank,  and  Deering  gasped, 
"Hold  fast!" 

The  load  on  Jimmy's  arms  got  insupportable.  He 
imagined  the  noise  had  startled  Deering  and  his  foot 
had  slipped  from  the  knob.  It  looked  as  if  he  must 
hold  the  fellow  until  he  found  the  crack.  Jimmy  meant 
to  try,  although  the  stone  rocked,  and  he  knew  he 
could  not  long  bear  the  horrible  strain.  If  Deering 
fell,  he  would  not  stop  at  the  shelf ;  he  might  not  stop 
for  three  or  four  hundred  feet.  Jimmy  set  his  mouth 
and  tried  to  brace  his  knees  against  the  rock.  The 
stone  was  moving,  and  if  it  moved  much,  Deering 
would  pull  him  over.  Yet  in  a  moment  or  two  Deer- 
ing might  get  his  boot  in  the  crack,  and  to  let  him  fall 
was  unthinkable. 


JIMMY  HOLDS  FAST  45" 

Jimmy  held  on  until  Deering  shouted  and  let  go. 
He  had  obviously  found  some  support,  and  Jimmy 
tried  to  get  back,  but  could  not.  His  chest  was  across 
the  edge,  and  the  stone  rocked.  He  was  slipping  off, 
and  saw,  half -consciously,  that  since  he  must  fall, 
he  must  not  fall  down  the  rock  front.  Pushing  him- 
self from  the  edge,  he  plunged  into  the  gully,  struck 
the  rock  some  way  down,  and  knew  no  more.  Deering, 
on  the  shelf,  saw  him  reach  the  bottom,  roll  for  a 
distance  and  stop.  He  lay  face  downwards,  with  his 
arms  spread  out. 

A  few  moments  afterwards  Stannard  reached  the 
spot  and  looked  down.  Deering's  big  chest  heaved, 
his  mouth  was  slack,  and  his  face  was  white.  When 
he  indicated  Jimmy  his  hand  shook. 

"I  pulled  him  over,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

Stannard  gave  him  a  keen,  rather  scornful  glance. 
"Traverse  across  the  front  for  about  twenty  yards 
and  you'll  see  a  good  line  down.  When  you  get  down, 
start  for  the  hotel  and  bring  the  two  guides,  our  rope, 
a  blanket  and  two  poles.  Send  somebody  to  telegraph 
for  a  doctor." 

"Not  at  all!  I'm  going  to  Jimmy.  I  pulled  the 
kid  over." 

Stannard  frowned.  "You  are  going  to  the  hotel. 
For  one  thing,  I  doubt  if  you  could  reach  Jimmy; 
you're  badly  jarred  and  your  nerve's  gone.  Then, 
unless  you  get  help,  we  can't  carry  Jimmy  out." 

"You  mustn't  leave  him  in  the  gully,"  Deering  re- 
joined. "Suppose  a  fresh  lot  of  stones  comes  along?" 


46  NORTHWEST! 

''Go  for  help,"  said  Stannard,  pulling  out  his  watch. 
"Come  back  up  the  gully.  If  you  have  a  flask,  give  it 
to  me.  I'm  going  down." 

"But  if  there's  another  snow-slide,  you  and  Jimmy 
will  get  smashed.  Besides,  the  job  is  mine." 

"The  snow  and  stones  come  down  the  middle  and 
they'll  stop  by  and  by.  Don't  talk.  Start !" 

Deering  hesitated.  He  was  big  and  muscular,  but 
he  admitted  that  on  the  rocks  Stannard  was  the  better 
man.  Moreover,  to  know  he  was  accountable  for 
Jimmy's  plunge  had  shaken  him,  and  he  saw  Stannard 
was  very  cool. 

"Take  the  flask,"  he  said  and  went  off  at  a  reckless 
speed. 


VI 

DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT 

JIMMY  saw  a  pale  star,  and  veins  of  snow  streak- 
ing high  shadowy  rocks.  He  thought  when  he 
looked  up  not  long  before,  the  sun  was  on  the  moun- 
tain, but  perhaps  it  was  not.  His  brain  was  dull  and 
he  was  numbed  by  cold.  He  shivered  and  shut  his 
eyes,  but  after  a  few  minutes  he  smelt  cigar-smoke 
and  looked  about  again.  Although  it  was  getting  dark, 
he  saw  somebody  sitting  in  the  gloom  at  the  bottom 
of  the  rocks. 

"Where's  Deering?"  he  asked.    "Did  I  let  him  go  ?" 

"You  did  not.  Take  a  drink,"  the  other  replied 
and  pushed  a  flask  into  Jimmy's  hand. 

Jimmy  drank,  gasped,  and  tried  to  get  up,  but  found 
he  could  not  move. 

"Where  is  Deering?"  he  insisted. 

"I  expect  he's  crossing  the  glacier  with  the  guides 
from  the  hotel,"  said  the  man,  who  took  the  flask 
from  him,  and  Jimmy  knew  Stannard's  voice. 

"Then  where  am  I?" 

"You  are  in  the  gully.  You  held  on  to  Deering 
until  he  got  support  for  his  foot.  Then  you  slipped 
off  the  big  stone.  Something  like  that,  anyhow.  Do 

you  feel  pain  at  any  particular  spot?" 

47 


48  NORTHWEST! 

"I  don't  know  if  one  spot  hurts  worse  than  an- 
other. All  hurt;  I  doubt  if  I  can  get  up." 

"You  mustn't  try,"  said  Stannard  firmly.  "When 
Deering  arrives  we'll  help  you  up." 

Jimmy  pondered.  Since  the  evening  was  very  cold, 
he  thought  it  strange  Stannard  had  pulled  off  his 
coat.  Then  he  saw  somebody  had  put  over  him  a 
coat  that  was  not  his. 

"Why  have  you  given  me  your  clothes?"  he  asked. 

"For  one  thing,  I  didn't  fall  about  forty  feet." 

"If  I  had  fallen  forty  feet,  I'd  have  got  smashed. 
It's  obvious!" 

"Perhaps  you  hit  the  side  of  the  gully  and  rolled 
down,  but  it's  not  important.  When  one  gets  a  jolt 
like  yours  the  shock's  as  bad  as  the  local  injury.  Are 
you  cold  ?" 

"I'm  horribly  cold,  but  although  I  heard  stones  not 
long  since  I  don't  think  I  got  hit." 

"The  stones  run  down  the  middle  and  I  pulled  you 
against  the  rock." 

"You're  a  good  sort,"  Jimmy  remarked.  "Deering's 
a  good  sort.  To  know  he's  not  hurt  is  some  relief." 

Stannard  said  nothing  and  Jimmy  asked  for  a  ciga- 
rette. Stannard  gave  him  a  cigarette  and  a  light,  but 
after  a  few  moments  he  let  it  drop. 

"The  tobacco's  not  good,"  he  said,  dully,  and  began 
to  muse. 

He  was  strangely  slack  and  his  body  was  numb. 
Perhaps  to  feel  no  local  pain  was  ominous;  he  knew 
a  man  who  fell  on  the  rocks  and  had  not  afterwards 


DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT  49 

used  his  legs.  To  be  wheeled  about  for  all  one's  life 
was  horrible.  When  a  doctor  arrived  he  would  know 
his  luck,  and  in  the  meantime  he  dared  not  dwell  on 
things  like  that.  He  studied  the  rocks.  Stannard  had 
obviously  come  down  by  the  slanting  crack;  Jimmy 
thought  he  himself  could  not  have  done  so.  Then 
Stannard,  risking  his  getting  hit  by  rebounding  stones, 
had  remained  with  him  for  some  hours.  When  Jimmy 
helped  Deering  the  sun  shone,  and  now  the  stars  were 
out.  The  gully  was  high  on  the  mountain  and  after 
the  sun  went  the  cold  was  keen,  but  Stannard  had 
given  him  his  coat  Stannard  was  like  that. 

"I  expect  you  sent  Deering  to  the  hotel?"  Jimmy 
resumed  after  a  time. 

"Yes;  I  was  firm.  Deering  wanted  to  go  down  to 
you;  but  I  doubted  if  he  could  get  down  and  the  im- 
portant thing  was  to  fetch  help.  You  must  be  moved 
as  soon  as  possible." 

Jimmy  nodded ;  Deering  was  the  man  he  had  thought. 
All  the  same,  Stannard's  was  the  finer  type.  Jimmy 
had  long  known  his  pluck,  but  he  had  other  qualities. 
When  one  must  front  a  crisis  he  was  cool;  he  saw 
and  carried  out  the  proper  plan.  But  Jimmy's  brain 
was  very  dull,  and  Stannard's  figure  melted  and  the 
rocks  got  indistinct. 

After  a  time,  he  heard  a  noise.  A  shout  echoed 
in  the  gully,  nailed  boots  rattled  on  stones  and  it 
looked  as  if  men  were  coming  up.  Deering,  breathless 
and  gasping,  arrived  before  the  others  and  motioned 
to  Stannard. 


50  NORTHWEST! 

"Not  much  grounds  to  be  disturbed,  I  think,"  said 
Stannard  in  a  quiet  voice.  "He  was  talking  sensibly 
not  long  since." 

Deering  came  to  Jimmy  and  touched  his  arm. 
"You're  not  broke  up,  partner?  You  haven't  got  it 
against  me  that  I  pulled  you  off  the  rocks?" 

"Certainly  not!  I  slipped  off,"  Jimmy  declared. 
"Anyhow,  you're  my  friend." 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Deering  quietly.  "Take  a  drink 
of  hot  soup.  We'll  soon  pack  you  out."  He  put  a 
vacuum  flask  in  Jimmy's  hand  and  turned  to  the  others. 
"Let's  get  busy,  boys." 

Jimmy  did  not  know  much  about  their  journey  down 
the  gully  and  across  the  glacier,  but  at  length  he  was 
vaguely  conscious  of  bright  lights  and  the  tramp  of 
feet  along  an  echoing  passage.  People  gently  moved 
him  about;  he  felt  he  was  in  a  soft,  warm  bed,  and 
with  languid  satisfaction  he  went  to  sleep. 

When  the  others  saw  Jimmy  was  asleep  they  went 
off  quietly,  but  at  the  end  of  the  passage  Deering 
stopped  Stannard. 

"Let's  get  a  drink,"  he  said.  "For  four  or  five  hours 
I've  hustled  some  and  I  need  a  pick-me-up." 

Stannard  gave  him  a  keen  glance.  Deering  had 
hustled.  To  carry  Jimmy  down  the  rocks  and  across 
the  glacier,  in  the  dark,  was  a  strenuous  undertaking, 
and  where  strength  was  needed  the  big  man  had  nobly 
used  his.  Yet  Stannard  imagined  the  strain  that  had 
bothered  him  was  not  physical. 


DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT  SI 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "I'll  go  to  the  bar  with  you. 
Waiting  for  you  in  the  gully  was  not  a  soothing  job." 

"You  knew  I'd  get  back,"  Deering  rejoined.  "If 
I'd  had  to  haul  out  the  cook  and  bell-boys  I'd  have 
brought  help." 

"I  didn't  know  how  long  you'd  be  and  speed  was 
important." 

"You're  a  blamed  cool  fellow,"  Deering  remarked. 
"If  you  had  not  taken  control,  I  expect  we'd  have 
jolted  Jimmy  off  the  stretcher,  and  maybe  have  gone 
through  the  snow-bridge  the  guide  didn't  spot.  Then 
you  stayed  with  him,  pulled  him  out  of  the  way  of 
the  snow-slides,  and  kept  him  warm.  I  expect  you 
saved  his  life." 

"To  some  extent,  perhaps  that  is  so,"  Stannard 
agreed.  "That  somebody  must  pull  Jimmy  against 
the  rock  was  obvious.  All  the  same,  I  knew  the  stones 
wouldn't  bother  us  after  it  got  cold." 

Deering  was  puzzled.  Stannard's  habit  was  not  to 
boast,  but  it  looked  as  if  he  were  willing  to  admit  he 
had  saved  Jimmy's  life.  Deering  speculated  about  his 
object. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  own  I  was  badly  rattled.  You 
see,  if  the  kid  had  not  held  fast,  I'd  have  gone  right 
down  the  rock  face  and  don't  know  where  I'd  have 
stopped.  Perhaps  it's  strange,  but  I  remembered  I'd 
got  five  hundred  dollars  of  his  and  the  thing  bothered 
me.  To  know  I'd  played  a  straight  game  didn't  com- 
fort me  much." 


52  NORTHWEST! 

"You're  a  sentimentalist,"  Stannard  rejoined  with 
a  smile.  "I  don't  know  that  a  crooked  game  was  indi- 
cated. But  let's  get  our  drinks." 

They  went  to  the  bar  and  when  Deering  picked  up 
his  glass  he  said,  "Good  luck  to  the  kid  and  a  quick 
recovery!"  He  drained  the  glass  and  looked  at  Stan- 
nard hard.  "When  Jimmy  needs  a  help  out,  I'm  his 
man." 

Stannard  said  nothing,  but  lighted  a  cigarette. 

In  the  morning  a  young  doctor  arrived  from  Cal- 
gary and  was  some  time  in  Jimmy's  room. 

"I  reckon  your  luck  was  pretty  good,"  he  remarked. 
"After  three  or  four  days  you  can  get  up  and  go 
about — "  He  paused  and  added  meaningly :  "But  you 
want  to  go  slow." 

Jimmy's  face  was  white,  but  the  blood  came  to  his 
skin. 

"I'd  begun  to  think  something  like  that,"  he  said 
in  a  languid  voice. 

The  doctor  nodded.  "Since  you  could  stand  for 
the  knock  you  got,  your  body's  pretty  sound,  but  I 
get  a  hint  of  strain  and  the  cure's  moral.  You  want 
to  cut  out  hard  drinks,  strong  cigars,  and  playing  cards 
all  night." 

"Do  the  symptoms  indicate  that  I  do  play  cards 
all  night?" 

"I  own  I  was  helped  by  inquiries  about  your  habits," 
said  the  doctor,  smiling.  "If  you  like  a  game,  try  pool, 
with  boys  like  yourself,  and  bet  fifty  cents.  I  don't 


DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT  53 

know  about  your  bank-roll,  but  your  heart  and  nerve 
won't  stand  for  hundred-dollar  pots  when  your  antag- 
onists are  men." 

"One  antagonist  risked  his  life  to  save  mine,"  Jimmy 
declared,  with  an  angry  flush,  for  he  thought  he  saw 
where  the  other's  remarks  led. 

"I  understand  that  is  so,"  the  doctor  agreed.  "My 
job's  not  to  talk  about  your  friends,  but  to  give  you 
good  advice.  Cut  out  unhealthy  excitement  and  go 
steady.  If  you  like  it,  go  up  on  the  rocks.  Mountain- 
eering's dangerous,  but  sometimes  one  runs  worse 
risks." 

He  went  off  and  by  and  by  Deering  came  in. 

"The  doctor  allows  you  are  making  pretty  good 
progress.  The  man  who  means  to  put  you  out  must 
use  a  gun,"  he  said  with  a  jolly  laugh.  "Anyhow, 
we  were  bothered  and  when  we  got  the  bulletin  we 
rushed  the  bar  for  drinks." 

"My  friends  are  stanch." 

"Oh,  shucks!"  said  Deering.  "You're  the  sort 
whose  friends  are  stanch.  Say,  your  holding  on  until 
I  pulled  you  over  was  great !" 

"You  didn't  pull  me  over.  The  stone  rocked  and 
I  came  off." 

"One  mustn't  dispute  with  a  sick  man,"  Deering  re- 
marked. "All  the  same  I  want  to  state  I  owe  you 
much,  and  I  pay  my  debts.  I'd  like  you  to  get  that." 

Jimmy  smiled.  "If  it's  some  comfort,  I'm  willing 
to  be  your  creditor.  I  know  you'd  meet  my  bill." 


54  NORTHWEST! 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Deering,  who  did  not  smile. 
"When  you  send  your  bill  along,  I'll  try  to  make 
good.  That's  all ;  I  guess  we'll  let  it  go." 

"Very  well.  I  don't  see  how  you  were  able  to  stick 
to  the  slab." 

"My  foot  slipped  from  the  knob,  but  for  a  few 
moments  you  held  me  up,  and  bracing  my  knee  against 
the  stone,  I  swung  across  for  the  crack.  Then  I  was 
on  the  shelf  and  you  went  over  my  head.  That's  all 
I  knew,  until  Stannard  joined  me  and  took  control." 

"He  sent  you  off?" 

Deering  nodded.  "I  wasn't  keen  to  go,  but  he 
saw  help  was  wanted,  and  he  thought  about  wiring 
for  a  doctor.  When  I  got  back  with  the  boys,  our 
plan  was  to  rush  you  down  to  the  hotel,  but  it  wasn't 
Stannard's.  I  allow  we  were  rattled;  he  was  cool. 
We  must  go  slow  and  not  jolt  you;  at  awkward  spots 
somebody  must  look  for  the  smoothest  line.  Crossing 
the  glacier,  he  went  ahead  with  the  lantern  and  located 
a  soft  snow-bridge  the  guide  was  going  to  cross." 

"Stannard  is  like  that,"  said  Jimmy.  "His  coolness 
is  very  fine." 

Deering  agreed,  but  Jimmy  thought  he  hesitated 
before  he  resumed :  "In  some  ways,  the  fellow's  the 
standard  type  of  highbrow  Englishman.  He's  urbane 
and  won't  dispute;  he  smiles  and  lets  you  down.  He 
wears  the  proper  clothes  and  uses  the  proper  talk. 
If  you're  his  friend,  he's  charming;  but  that's  not  all 
the  man.  Stannard  doesn't  plunge ;  he  calculates.  He 
knows  just  where  he  wants  to  go  and  gets  there.  I 


DEERING  OWNS  A  DEBT  55 

guess  if  I  was  an  obstacle,  I'd  pull  out  of  his  way. 
The  man's  fine,  like  tempered  steel,  and  about  as 
hard —  Well,  the  doctor  stated  you  wanted  quiet  and 
I'll  quit  talking." 

He  went  away  and  Jimmy  mused.  Deering  talked 
much,  but  Jimmy  imagined  he  sometimes  had  an  ob- 
ject. Although  he  frankly  approved  Stannard,  Jimmy 
felt  he  struck  a  warning  note.  Since  Jimmy  owed 
much  to  Stannard's  coolness,  he  was  rather  annoyed; 
but  the  talk  had  tired  him  and  he  went  to  sleep. 


VII 

AN   INSURABLE   INTEREST 

'HT^HE  sun  was  hot  and  Jimmy  loafed  in  an  easy 
•*•  chair  at  the  shady  end  of  the  terrace.  Laura 
occupied  a  chair  opposite;  the  small  table  between 
them  carried  some  new  books,  and  flowers  and  fruit 
from  the  Pacific  coast.  In  the  background,  a  shining 
white  peak  cut  the  serene  sky. 

Three  or  four  young  men  and  women  were  on  the 
veranda  steps  not  far  off.  A  few  minutes  since  they 
had  bantered  Jimmy,  but  when  Laura  arrived  they 
went.  Jimmy  rather  thought  she  had  meant  them  to 
go  and  he  gave  her  a  smile. 

"I  expect  you  have  inherited  some  of  Mr.  Stan- 
nard's  talents,"  he  remarked. 

"For  example?" 

Jimmy  indicated  the  rather  noisy  group.  "It  looks 
as  if  you  knew  my  head  ached  and  I  couldn't  stand 
for  Stevens'  jokes.  When  you  joined  me  he  and 
his  friends  went  off.  Your  father  arranges  things 
like  that,  without  much  obvious  effort." 

"I  knew  the  doctor  stated  you  must  not  be  both- 
ered," Laura  admitted.  "Besides,  I  engaged  to  go 
fishing  with  Stevens  and  some  others,  and  before  I 
get  back  expect  I'll  have  enough." 

"Is  Dillon  going?" 

56 


AN  INSURABLE  INTEREST  57 

"Frank  planned  the  excursion,"  said  Laura  and 
Jimmy  was  satisfied. 

Dillon  was  a  young  American  whom  Jimmy  rather 
liked,  but  to  think  Laura  liked  Frank  annoyed  him. 
Now,  however,  she  had  admitted  that  his  society  had 
not  much  charm. 

"Anyhow,  you're  very  kind,"  he  remarked,  and 
indicated  the  fruit  and  flowers.  "These  things  don't 
grow  in  the  mountains." 

"The  station  is  not  far  off  and  to  send  a  telegram 
is  not  much  bother." 

"To  send  up  things  from  Vancouver  is  expensive." 

"Sometimes  you  talk  like  a  cotton  manufacturer," 
Laura  rejoined. 

Jimmy  colored  but  gave  her  a  steady  glance.  "It's 
possible.  My  people  are  manufacturers;  my  grand- 
father was  a  workman.  Not  long  since,  I  meant  to 
cultivate  out  all  that  marked  me  as  belonging  to  the 
cotton  mill.  Now  I  don't  know —  Perhaps  I  in- 
herited something  useful  from  my  grandfather;  but 
in  the  meantime  it's  not  important.  You  are  kind." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Laura.  "You  were  moody  and  the 
doctor  declared  you  had  got  a  very  nasty  jolt." 

"I  was  thoughtful.  To  some  extent  you're  account- 
able. When  one  is  forced  to  loaf  one  has  time  to 
ponder,  and  when  you  inquired  if  I  knew  where  I 
went—" 

He  stopped,  for  a  guide,  carrying  fishing  rods  and 
landing  nets,  went  down  the  steps  and  Stannard  came 
out  of  the  hotel. 


58  NORTHWEST! 

"Your  party's  waiting  for  you,"  Stannard  remarked 
to  Laura,  who  got  up  and  gave  Jimmy  a  smile. 

"Get  well  and  then  ponder,"  she  said  and  joined  the 
others. 

Jimmy  frowned.  The  others,  of  course,  ought  not 
to  wait  for  Laura,  but  Stannard  had  sent  her  off  like 
that  before.  All  the  same,  he  was  her  father  and 
Jimmy  owned  he  must  not  dispute  his  rule.  When 
the  party  had  gone,  Stannard  sat  down  opposite  Jimmy 
and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"I'm  glad  to  note  you  make  good  progress." 

"In  a  day  or  two  I'll  go  about  as  usual.  In  fact, 
if  the  others  go  fishing  to-morrow,  I'll  try  to  join 
them.  I  think  I  could  reach  the  lake." 

"Some  caution's  necessary,"  Stannard  remarked. 
"You  got  a  very  nasty  shake  and  ran  worse  risks 
than  you  knew.  When  you  stopped  in  the  bank  of 
gravel  your  luck  was  remarkably  good;  I  did  not  ex- 
pect you  to  stop  until  you  reached  the  glacier.  Then, 
had  I  not  had  a  thick  coat  that  helped  to  keep  you 
warm,  you  might  not  have  survived  the  shock.  After- 
wards much  depended  on  Deering's  speed  and  his  get- 
ting men  who  knew  the  rocks.  Indeed,  when  we  started 
I  hardly  thought  we  could  carry  you  down  in  useful 
time." 

Jimmy  was  puzzled,  because  he  did  not  think  Stan- 
nard meant  to  imply  that  his  help  was  important.  The 
risk  Jimmy  had  run,  however,  was  obvious,  and  Stan- 
nard's  talking  about  it  led  him  to  dwell  on  something 
he  had  recently  weighed. 


59 

"Since  I  was  forced  to  stay  in  bed  I've  tried  to 
reckon  up  and  find  out  where  I  am,"  he  said.  "You 
are  my  banker.  How  does  the  account  stand?" 

"I  imagine  Laura's  advice  was  good;  wait  until 
you  get  better,"  Stannard  said  carelessly. 

"When  I  start  to  go  about,  I'll  be  occupied  by  some- 
thing else.  How  much  do  I  owe?" 

For  a  few  minutes  Stannard  studied  his  note-book, 
and  when  he  replied  Jimmy  set  his  mouth.  He  knew 
he  had  been  extravagant,  but  his  extravagance  was 
worse  than  he  had  thought. 

"Until  I  get  my  inheritance,  it's  impossible  for  me 
to  pay  you,"  he  said  with  some  embarrassment.  "I, 
so  to  speak,  have  pawned  my  allowance  for  a  long 
time  in  advance." 

"Something  like  that  is  obvious." 

"Very  well!    What  am  I  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"My  plan  was  to  wait  until  you  did  get  your  in- 
heritance; but  I  see  some  disadvantages,"  said  Stan- 
nard in  a  thoughtful  voice. 

"The  trouble  is,  I  might  not  inherit,"  Jimmy  agreed. 
"One  must  front  things,  and  climbing's  a  risky  hobby. 
We  mean  to  shoot  a  mountain  sheep  and  I  understand 
the  big-horn  keep  the  high  rocks.  Then  we  have  un- 
dertaken to  get  up  a  very  awkward  peak.  Well,  sup- 
pose I  did  not  come  back?" 

"You  don't  expect  a  fresh  accident!  Haven't  you 
had  enough?  However,  if  your  gloomy  forebodings 
were  justified,  I  expect  your  relations  would  meet  my 
claim." 


60  NORTHWEST! 

"After  all,  mountaineering  accidents  are  numerous, 
and  you  don't  know  Dick  Leyland.  You  have  got  a 
bundle  of  acknowledgments,  but  the  notes  are  not 
stamped  and  Dick  hates  gambling.  It's  possible  he'd 
dispute  my  debts  and  he's  a  remarkably  keen  business 
man." 

"If  that  is  so,  it  might  be  awkward,"  Stannard 
agreed.  "But  what  about  the  other  trustee?" 

"Sir  James  is  in  India;  I  expect  he'd  support  Dick. 
During  their  lifetime  my  share  is  a  third  of  the  house's 
profit,  but,  unless  they're  satisfied,  I  cannot  for  some 
time  use  much  control.  In  fact,  they  have  power  to 
fix  my  allowance." 

Stannard's  look  was  thoughtful,  as  if  he  had  not 
known;  but  since  Laura  knew,  Jimmy  wondered  why 
she  had  not  enlightened  her  father. 

"Very  well,"  said  Stannard.  "My  plan  might  not 
work.  Have  you  another?" 

The  other  plan  was  obvious.  Jimmy  was  surprised 
because  Stannard  did  not  see  it. 

"You  trusted  me  and  I  mustn't  let  you  down,"  he 
said  with  a  friendly  smile.  "If  we  insure  my  life, 
you'll  guard  against  all  risk." 

"My  interest  is  insurable — "  Stannard  remarked 
and  stopped.  Then  he  resumed  in  a  careless  voice: 
"Your  caution's  ridiculous,  but  if  you  are  resolved,  I 
suppose  I  must  agree.  In  order  to  satisfy  you,  we'll 
look  up  an  insurance  office  at  Vancouver." 

Somehow  Jimmy  was  jarred.  Stannard's  remark 
about  his  insurable  interest  indicated  that  he  had 


AN  INSURABLE  INTEREST  61 

weighed  the  plan  before,  and  Jimmy  thought  his  pause 
significant.  Then,  although  he  had  agreed  as  if  he 
wanted  to  indulge  Jimmy,  his  agreement  was  prompt. 
For  all  that,  the  plan  was  Jimmy's  and  Stannard's 
approval  was  justified. 

Then  Deering  came  along  the  terrace  and  said  to 
Stannard,  "Hello!  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  write 
some  letters,  and  Jimmy's  look  is  strangely  sober. 
Have  you  been  weighing  something  important?" 

The  glance  Stannard  gave  Jimmy  was  careless,  but 
Jimmy  thought  he  meant  Deering  was  not  to  know. 

"Sometimes  Jimmy's  rash,  but  sometimes  he's  keener 
than  one  thinks.  Anyhow,  he's  obstinate  and  we  were 
disputing  about  a  suggestion  of  his  I  did  not  at  first 
approve.  I  wrote  the  letters  I  meant  to  write.  Sit 
down  and  take  a  smoke." 

Deering  sat  down  and  they  talked  about  the  peaks 
they  had  planned  to  climb. 

A  week  or  two  afterwards,  Stannard  and  Jimmy 
went  to  Vancouver,  and  when  he  had  seen  the  in- 
surance company's  doctor  Jimmy  walked  about  the 
streets.  He  liked  Vancouver.  When  one  fronted  an 
opening  in  the  rows  of  ambitious  office  blocks,  one 
saw  the  broad  Inlet  and  anchored  ships.  Across  the 
shining  water,  mountains  rolled  back  to  the  snow  in 
the  North;  on  the  other  side,  streets  of  new  wooden 
houses  pushed  out  to  meet  the  dark  pine  forest.  The 
city's  surroundings  were  beautiful,  but  Jimmy  felt 
that  beauty  was  not  its  peculiar  charm. 

At  Montreal,  for  example,  one  got  a  hint  of  cul- 


62  NORTHWEST! 

tivation,  and  to  some  extent  of  leisure,  built  on  long- 
established  prosperity.  Notre  Dame  was  rather  like 
Notre  Dame  at  Paris  and  St.  James's  was  a  glorious 
cathedral.  Quiet  green  squares  checkered  the  city, 
and  the  streets  at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  were 
bordered  by  fine  shade  trees.  Vancouver  was  frankly 
raw  and  new ;  one  felt  it  had  not  yet  reached  its  proper 
growth.  All  was  bustle  and  keen  activity;  the  clang 
of  locomotive  bells  and  the  rattle  of  steamboat  winches 
echoed  about  the  streets.  Huge  sawmills  and  stacks  of 
lumber  occupied  the  water-front.  Giant  trunks  carried 
electric  wires  across  the  high  roofs,  and,  until  Jimmy 
saw  the  firs  in  Stanley  Park,  he  had  not  thought  logs 
like  that  grew. 

Then  he  thought  the  citizens  typically  Western. 
Their  look  was  keen  and  optimistic;  they  pushed  and 
jostled  along  the  sidewalks.  Jimmy  saw  an  opera 
house  and  numerous  pool-rooms,  but  in  the  daytime 
nobody  seemed  to  loaf.  All  struck  a  throbbing  note 
of  strenuous  business.  Jimmy  studied  the  wharfs  and 
mills  and  railroad  yard,  but  for  the  most  part  he 
stopped  opposite  the  land-agents'  windows. 

The  large  maps  of  freshly-opened  country  called. 
Up  there  in  the  wilds,  hard  men  drove  back  the  forest 
and  broke  virgin  soil.  Their  job  was  a  man's  job 
and  Jimmy  pictured  the  struggle.  He  had  loafed  and 
indulged  his  youthful  love  for  pleasure,  but  the  sat- 
isfaction he  had  got  was  gone.  After  all,  he  had 
inherited  some  constructive  talent,  and  he  vaguely  re- 
alized that  his  business  was  to  build  and  not  to  squan- 


AN  INSURABLE  INTEREST  63 

der.  Then  Laura  and  the  doctor  had  worked  on  him. 
Laura  had  bidden  him  study  where  he  went ;  the  other 
hinted  that  he  went  too  fast. 

At  one  office  he  saw  a  map  of  the  country  behind 
the  hotel  and  he  picked  out  the  valley  in  which  was 
Kelshope  ranch.  There  was  not  another  homestead 
for  some  distance  and  a  notice  stated  that  the  land 
was  cheap.  Jimmy  pondered  for  a  few  minutes  and 
then  went  in. 

The  agent  stated  his  willingness  to  supply  land  of 
whatever  sort  Jimmy  needed,  but  he  thought,  for  an 
ambitious  young  man,  the  proper  investment  was  a 
city  building  lot.  In  fact,  he  had  a  number  of  useful 
lots  on  a  first-class  frontage.  Jimmy  studied  the  map 
and  remarked  that  the  town  had  not  got  there  yet. 
The  agent  declared  the  town  would  get  there  soon, 
and  to  wait  until  the  streets  were  graded  and  prices 
went  up  was  a  fool's  plan.  Jimmy  stated  he  would 
not  speculate ;  if  the  price  were  suitable,  he  might  buy 
land  in  the  Kelshope  valley  on  the  other  map. 

The  agent  said  the  valley  was  not  altogether  in  his 
hands.  Kelshope  was  in  Alberta,  but  for  a  split  com- 
mission he  could  negotiate  a  sale  with  the  Calgary 
broker.  If  one  bought  a  block  and  paid  a  small  de- 
posit, he  imagined  a  good  sum  might  stand  on  mort- 
gage. Jimmy  replied  that  he  would  think  about  it 
and  went  off.  It  was  not  for  nothing  he  had  studied 
business  methods  at  the  Leyland  mill. 

In  the  evening  he  and  Stannard  occupied  a  bench 
in  the  hotel  rotunda.  Cigar-smoke  floated  about  the 


64  NORTHWEST! 

pillars;  the  revolving  glass  doors  went  steadily  round, 
and  noisy  groups  pushed  in  and  out,  but  Stannard  had 
got  a  quiet  corner  and  by  and  by  Jimmy  asked :  "Have 
you  agreed  with  the  insurance  office?" 

"They  have  not  sent  the  agreement.  I  expect  to 
get  it." 

"Then,  I'd  like  you  to  go  back  in  the  morning  and 
insure  for  a  larger  sum.  I'll  give  you  a  note  for  five 
hundred  pounds." 

"I  haven't  five  hundred  pounds,"  said  Stannard  with 
surprise.  "Why  do  you  want  the  sum?" 

"I'm  going  to  buy  a  ranch  near  Jardine's,"  Jimmy 
replied.  "The  agent  wants  a  deposit  and  I  must  buy 
tools.  Can  you  help?" 

Stannard  looked  at  him  hard  and  hesitated,  but  he 
saw  Jimmy  was  resolved. 

"I  might  get  the  money  in  three  or  four  weeks.  It 
will  cost  you  something." 

"That's  understood,"  Jimmy  agreed.  "I  don't,  of 
course,  expect  the  sum  for  which  you'll  hold  my  note. 
Will  you  get  to  work?" 

"I  rather  think  your  plan  ridiculous." 

"You  thought  another  plan  of  mine  ridiculous,  but 
you  helped  me  carry  it  out,"  Jimmy  said  quietly. 

Stannard  looked  up  with  a  frown,  for  Deering 
crossed  the  floor. 

"I've  trailed  you !"  he  shouted.  "There's  not  much 
use  in  your  stealing  off." 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  business  to  transact  in  Van- 
couver," Stannard  rejoined. 


AN  INSURABLE  INTEREST  65 

"Dillon  had  some  business  and  brought  me  along," 
said  Deering  with  a  noisy  laugh.  "Looks  as  if  my 
job  was  to  guide  adventurous  youth." 

Jimmy  smiled,  for  he  imagined  the  young  men 
Deering  guided  paid  expensive  fees.  He  did  not  know 
if  Deering's  occupation  was  altogether  gambling,  but 
he  did  gamble  and  his  habit  was  to  win.  Yet  Jimmy 
liked  the  fellow. 

"Jimmy's  mood  is  rashly  adventurous;  he  wants  to 
buy  a  ranch,"  Stannard  resumed.  "I  understand  he 
has  interviewed  a  plausible  land-agent." 

"All  land-agents  are  plausible,"  said  Deering.  "Tell 
us  about  the  speculation,  Jimmy." 

Jimmy  did  so.  Stannard's  ironical  amusement  had 
hurt,  and  he  tried  to  justify  his  experiment. 

"Looks  like  a  joke;  but  I  don't  know,"  said  Deer- 
ing. "If  you  can  stand  for  holding  down  a  bush  block 
until  the  neighborhood  develops,  you  ought  to  sell  for 
a  good  price.  All  the  same,  the  job  is  dreary.  Have 
you  got  the  money?" 

"I  was  trying  to  persuade  Stannard  to  finance  me. 
He  doesn't  approve,  but  thinks  he  could  get  the  sum." 

"That  plan's  expensive,"  Deering  observed.  "What 
deposit  does  the  agent  want?" 

Jimmy  told  him  and  he  pondered.  Stannard  said 
nothing,  but  Jimmy  thought  him  annoyed  by  Deer- 
ing's  meddling.  Moreover,  Jimmy  thought  Deering 
knew.  After  a  few  moments  Deering  looked  up. 

"If  you  mean  to  buy  the  block,  I'll  lend  you  the  de- 
posit and  you  can  pay  me  current  interest.  I  expect 


66  NORTHWEST! 

the  agent  will  take  a  long-date  mortgage  for  the  rest, 
but  you  ought  to  ask  your  trustees  in  England  for  the 
money." 

"Have  you  got  the  sum  ?"  Stannard  inquired. 

"Sure,"  said  Deering,  with  a  jolly  laugh.  "Dillon 
and  I  met  up  with  two  or  three  sporting  lumber  men 
who  have  just  put  over  a  big  deal.  My  luck  was 
pretty  good,  and  I'd  have  stuffed  my  wallet  had  not  a 
sort  of  Puritan  vigilante  blown  in.  He  got  after  the 
hotel  boss,  who  stated  his  was  not  a  red  light  house." 

Jimmy  studied  the  others,  and  although  Stannard 
smiled,  was  somehow  conscious  of  a  puzzling  antag- 
onism. On  the  whole,  he  liked  Deering's  plan ;  he  did 
not  think  Dick  Leyland  would  agree,  but  Sir  Jim  might 
do  so. 

"Thank  you,  but  Stannard's  my  banker,"  he  replied. 
"All  the  same,  in  the  morning  I'll  write  to  my  trustees." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Deering.  "If  you  want  the  money, 
I'm  your  man.  But  let's  get  a  drink." 


VIII 

JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK 

the  evening  Jimmy  returned  from  Vancouver 
he  went  to  the  dining-room  as  soon  as  the  bell 
rang  and  waited  by  Stannard's  table.  The  table  occu- 
pied a  corner  by  a  window,  and  commanded  the  room 
and  a  noble  view  of  rocks  and  distant  snow.  Other 
guests  had  wanted  the  corner,  but  Stannard  had  got 
it  for  his  party.  Although  he  was  not  rich,  Stan- 
nard's habit  was  to  get  things  like  that. 

The  room  was  spacious  and  paneled  with  cedar  and 
maple.  Slender  wooden  pillars  supported  the  deco- 
rated beams,  the  tables  were  furnished  with  good  china 
and  nickel.  The  windows  were  open  and  the  keen 
smell  of  the  pines  floated  in. 

After  a  few  moments  Jimmy  heard  Deering's  laugh 
and  Stannard's  party  crossed  the  floor.  Frank  Dillon 
talked  to  Laura,  whom  Jimmy  had  not  seen  since  he 
returned ;  Frank  was  rather  a  handsome,  athletic  young 
fellow.  Laura  wore  a  fashionable  black  dinner  dress 
and  her  skin,  by  contrast,  was  very  white.  Her  move- 
ments were  languidly  graceful,  and  Jimmy  got  a  sense 
of  high  cultivation.  He  was  young  and  to  know  he 
belonged  to  Laura's  party  flattered  him.  Yet  he  was 
half  embarrassed,  because  he  waited  for  other  guests 

67 


68  NORTHWEST! 

and  did  not  know  if  Laura  would  like  his  friends. 
When  she  gave  Jimmy  her  hand  Stannard  indicated 
two  extra  chairs. 

"Hallo!"  he  said.  "I  must  see  the  head  waiter. 
This  table's  ours." 

"Two  friends  of  mine  are  coming,"  Jimmy  replied 
and  turned  to  Laura  apologetically.  "Perhaps  I  ought 
to  have  told  you,  but  I  wrote  to  Jardine  from  Van- 
couver and  when  I  returned  and  got  his  letter  you  were 
not  about." 

"Was  it  not  Miss  Jardine  you  helped  when  her 
horse  ran  away?" 

"I  doubt  if  I  did  help  much,  but  after  the  horse 
knocked  me  down  I  went  to  the  homestead  and  Jar- 
dine  was  kind.  Now  I  want  to  talk  to  him ;  he's  a  good 
rancher." 

"Then,  ranching  really  interests  you?" 

"Jimmy  has  bought  a  ranch  and  I'm  going  to  stay 
with  him,"  said  Deering  with  a  noisy  laugh.  "Perhaps 
to  hunt  and  live  the  simple  life  will  help  me  keep  down 
my  weight." 

Laura  gave  Jimmy  a  keen  glance  and  he  thought 
she  frowned.  "You  a  rancher?  It's  ridiculous!  But 
Deering  likes  to  joke." 

"It  is  not  at  all  a  joke,"  Deering  rejoined.  "Jimmy 
has  bought  a  ranch,  and  Stannard  and  I  disputed 
who  should  lend  him  the  money.  As  a  rule,  one's 
friends  don't  dispute  about  that  sort  of  privilege;  but 
one  trusts  Jimmy.  Perhaps  his  trusting  you  accounts 
for  it." 


JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK  69 

"I  suppose  Miss  Jardine  comes  with  her  father?" 
Laura  remarked. 

Jimmy  agreed  and  looked  at  Stannard,  who  had 
picked  up  the  bill  of  fare. 

"We  must  wait  for  your  friends,"  he  said  carelessly, 
but  Jimmy  thought  him  annoyed. 

Then  Jimmy  turned  and  saw  Margaret  and  Jardine. 
The  rancher's  clothes  were  obviously  bought  at  a  small 
settlement  store,  but  his  figure  was  good  and  his  glance 
was  keen  and  cool;  somehow  Jimmy  imagined  him 
ironically  amused.  Margaret's  blue  dress  was  not 
fashionable,  but  she  carried  herself  like  an  Indian  and 
was  marked  by  something  of  the  Indian's  calm.  In 
the  sunset,  her  hair  was  red,  her  eyes  were  blue,  and 
her  skin  was  brown.  When  Jimmy  advanced  to  meet 
her  she  gave  him  a  frank  smile.  He  presented  her  to 
Laura  and  noted  Dillon's  admiring  glance. 

Stannard  called  a  waiter  and  when  dinner  was 
served  began  to  talk.  Laura  supported  him,  but  Jimmy 
rather  thought  her  support  too  obvious.  This  was 
strange,  because  Laura  was  clever  and  knew  where 
to  stop.  Now  it  looked  as  if  she  did  not.  The  Jar- 
dines  were  his  friends,  but  nothing  indicated  that  for 
them  to  dine  at  a  fashionable  hotel  was  embarrassing. 
He  imagined  Margaret  studied  Laura,  and  sometimes 
Laura's  glance  rested  on  the  other  for  a  moment  and 
was  gone.  When  Deering  had  satisfied  his  appetite, 
however,  he  firmly  took  the  lead  and  Jimmy  let  him 
do  so.  Sometimes  Deering's  humor  was  rude,  but  it 
was  kind. 


70  NORTHWEST! 

When  they  went  to  the  terrace  others  joined  them 
and  soon  a  party  surrounded  Stannard's  table.  After 
a  time  the  people  moved  their  chairs  about  and  Jimmy 
saw  Jardine  was  with  Deering  and  Dillon  had  joined 
Margaret.  He  fancied  Laura  had  remarked  this,  but 
she  lighted  a  cigarette  and  gave  him  a  friendly  smile. 

"Your  friends  don't  want  you  just  now.  When  you 
started  for  Vancouver,  I  think  you  ought  to  have  told 
me  about  your  ranching  experiment." 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  Jimmy  in  an  apologetic  voice. 
"I  saw  a  map  in  a  land-agent's  window  and  something 
called.  I  hesitated  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  went 
'  in." 

"Then,  you  didn't  go  to  Vancouver  in  order  to  buy 
a  ranch?" 

"Not  at  all — "  said  Jimmy  and  stopped,  because 
he  did  not  want  to  state  why  he  did  go.  "Of  course, 
it  looks  like  a  rash  plunge,"  he  resumed.  "Still  I  doubt 
if  it  really  is  rash  and  I  imagined  you  would  approve." 

Laura  smiled.  "I  don't  know  much  about  ranch- 
ing." 

"Not  long  ago  you  declared  I  ought  to  have  an 
occupation." 

"Then,  you  felt  you  must  get  to  work  because  I 
thought  you  ought?"  said  Laura  and  gave  Jimmy  a 
gentle  glance. 

Jimmy's  heart  beat,  but  he  knitted  his  brows.  He 
was  sincere  and  Laura  was  not  altogether  accountable 
for  his  resolve. 


JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK  71 

"Well,"  he  said  in  a  thoughtful  voice,  "I  was  get- 
ting slack  and  loafing  along  the  easy  way,  until  you 
pulled  me  up.  I  owe  you  much  for  that.  You  forced 
me  to  ponder  and  I  began  to  see  loafing  was  danger- 
ous. One  must  have  an  object  and  I  looked  about — " 

He  stopped,  with  some  embarrassment,  and  Laura 
saw  he  was  moved.  Jimmy  did  owe  her  something, 
for  she  had  meddled  at  a  moment  when  he  was  vaguely 
dissatisfied  and  looking  for  a  lead.  At  the  beginning, 
she  wras  not  selfish;  she  wanted  him  to  stop  and  pon- 
der, but  he  had  started  off  again  and  was  not  going 
where  she  wanted  him  to  go. 

"You  imply  you  have  found  an  object?"  she  re- 
marked. "After  all,  one's  object  ought  to  be  worth 
while,  and  to  chop  trees  on  a  ranch  will  not  carry 
you  far.  Perhaps  your  proper  occupation  is  at  the 
cotton  mill." 

"I  think  not;  anyhow,  not  yet.  Until  I'm  twenty- 
five,  Dick  Leyland  has  control.  Dick  is  a  good  mill 
manager,  but  his  school  is  the  old  school.  He  holds 
down  our  work-people  and  they  grumble;  the  ma- 
chinery's crowded  and  some  is  not  safe ;  the  operatives 
have  not  the  space  and  light  that  makes  work  easier. 
Then  the  office  is  dark  and  cold.  One  can't  persuade 
Dick  that  harshness  and  parsimony  no  longer  pay. 
Well,  when  I  go  back  I  must  have  power  to  put  things 
straight.  The  house  is  famous,  my  father  built  its 
fortune,  and  after  all  I'm  its  head." 

Laura  mused.     She  was  poor,  and  hating  poverty, 


72  NORTHWEST! 

had  begun  to  weigh  Jimmy's  advantages.  To  marry 
the  head  of  the  famous  house  was  a  sound  ambition, 
and  she  thought  if  she  used  her  charm,  Jimmy  would 
marry  her.  He  was  young  and  in  some  respects  argued 
like  a  boy;  Laura  was  young,  but  she  argued  like  a 
calculating  woman.  Yet  she  hesitated. 

"But  you  have  some  power,"  she  said  and  smiled. 
"Besides,  you're  obstinate." 

"It's  possible.  All  the  same,  I  haven't  tried  my 
power  and  don't  trust  myself.  Dick  and  I  would 
jar,  and  when  I  couldn't  move  him  I  expect  I'd  get 
savage  and  turn  down  the  job.  When  I  have  done 
some  useful  work,  for  example,  cleared  a  ranch,  got 
confidence  and  know  my  strength,  I'll  go  back  and 
try  to  take  my  proper  part." 

"Does  one  get  the  qualities  you  feel  you  want  at 
a  bush  ranch?" 

"Jardine  has  got  a  number.  At  Kelshope  all  is 
properly  planned  and  stubbornly  carried  out.  His  la- 
bor's rewarded,  and  the  important  thing  is,  he  is  sat- 
isfied. I'm  not,  and  I  admit  I  haven't  much  ground 
to  be  satisfied." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Laura.  "In  a  few  days  we  start 
on  our  excursion  to  Puget  Sound.  I  think  you  agreed 
to  join  us." 

Jimmy  knitted  his  brows.  He  wanted  to  join  the 
party,  but  saw  some  obstacles. 

"We  talked  about  it.  If  I  agreed,  of  course,  I'll  go." 

"Because  you  agreed?" 

"Not  altogether.     I'd  like  to  go." 


JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK  73 

"Then  why  do  you  hesitate?  We  want  you  to 
join  us." 

"For  one  thing,  I  really  don't  think  I  did  agree. 
Anyhow,  you'll  have  Dillon.  His  home's  on  Puget 
Sound  and  I  expect  he's  going." 

"Frank  is  rather  a  good  sort,  but  sometimes  he 
bores  one,"  Laura  remarked  carelessly.  "Besides,  after 
a  time  he's  going  to  some  friends  in  Colorado." 

Jimmy's  heart  beat.  Although  he  was  not  yet 
Laura's  lover,  her  charm  was  strong.  Still  he  ought 
to  get  to  work,  and  if  he  went  to  Puget  Sound  with 
Laura,  he  might  not  afterwards  bother  about  the 
ranch.  Well,  perhaps  the  ranch  was  not  important; 
if  he  wanted,  he  could,  no  doubt,  sell  the  land. 

The  clash  of  a  locomotive  bell,  softened  by  the 
distance,  echoed  across  the  bush.  A  freight  train  had 
started  from  the  water  tank  for  the  long  climb  to  the 
pass  and  Jimmy  felt  the  faint  notes  carried  a  message. 
Canada  was  a  land  of  bells.  At  Montreal  the  loco- 
motive bells  rang  all  night;  their  tolling  rolled  across 
wide  belts  of  wheat,  and  broke  the  silence  that  broods 
over  the  rocks.  When  all  was  quiet  in  the  bush,  the 
cow-bells  rang  sweet  chimes.  Perhaps  Jimmy  was  ro- 
mantic, but  he  felt  the  bells  stood  for  useful  effort, 
and  now  they  called.  The  strange  thing  was,  he 
thought  he  heard  pine  branches  crack  and  Margaret's 
voice.  "Oh,  Buck !  Oh,  Bright !" 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't  go,"  he  said.  "I  have  bought 
the  ranch  and  must  get  to  work." 

Laura  gave  him  a  keen  glance  and  got  a  jar.     He 


74  NORTHWEST! 

frowned  and  his  mouth  was  tight.  She  had  thought 
she  could  move  Jimmy,  but  now  she  doubted,  and 
because  she  was  proud  she  dared  not  try. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "we  have  talked  for  some  time, 
and  Deering  has  left  Jardine." 

She  sent  Jimmy  off  and  looked  about.  Dillon 
talked  to  Margaret,  and  although  Laura  imagined  a 
smile  would  detach  him  from  the  group,  she  did  not 
smile.  After  all,  if  Frank  joined  her,  Jimmy  might 
occupy  the  chair  he  left.  Laura  crossed  the  terrace 
and  joined  a  young  Canadian. 

Jimmy  sat  down  by  the  rancher  and  inquired :  "Do 
you  know  the  land  I  bought?" 

"The  soil  is  pretty  good,  but  the  timber's  thick  and 
until  ye  work  oot  the  turpentine,  ye'll  no'  get  much 
crop.  Ye'll  need  to  chop  and  burn  off  the  trees,  grub 
the  stumps,  and  then  plow  for  oats  and  timothy.  For 
some  years,  the  oats  will  no'  grow  milling  heads;  ye 
cut  them  for  hay." 

"Looks  like  a  long  job.  Suppose  I  wanted  to  sell 
the  block  after  a  time?" 

"It  depends,"  said  Jardine  dryly.  "Ye  might  get 
your  money  back." 

"You  imply  it  depends  on  the  labor  one  uses?" 
Jimmy  remarked.  "Well,  I  know  nothing  about  chop- 
ping and  I  haven't  pulled  a  crosscut  saw.  Do  you 
think  I  can  make  good?" 

Jardine  looked  about  the  terrace  and  his  eyes  twin- 
kled. He  noted  the  men's  dinner  jackets  and  the 


JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK  75 

women's  fashionable  clothes.  People  talked  and 
laughed  and  smoked. 

"I'm  thinking  your  friends  would  not  make  good. 
Ye  canna  play  at  ranching." 

"My  object's  not  to  play,"  said  Jimmy  in  a  quiet 
voice.  "Anyhow,  before  you  start  to  work  you  must 
get  proper  tools.  Suppose  you  tell  me  what  I  need?" 

Jardine  did  so  and  added :  "Proper  tools  and  stock 
are  a  sound  investment,  but  ye  canna  get  them  cheap. 
Can  ye  put  up  the  money?" 

"I  must  borrow  some,"  Jimmy  admitted,  and 
thought  Jardine  studied  Stannard,  who  talked  to  two 
or  three  young  men  not  far  off. 

"Then,  maybe  ye  had  better  borrow  from  Mr.  Deer- 
ing." 

Jardine  had  said  something  like  this  before,  but 
Jimmy  let  it  go  and  the  rancher  indicated  Margaret. 
Dillon  leaned  against  a  post  opposite  the  girl  and  a 
group  of  young  men  and  women  occupied  the  sur- 
rounding chairs.  A  touch  of  color  had  come  to  Mar- 
garet's skin;  her  look  was  alert  and  happy.  Jimmy 
had  known  her  undertake  a  man's  job  at  the  ranch, 
but  on  the  hotel  veranda  she  was  not  at  all  exotic. 

"I  must  thank  ye,  Mr.  Leyland.  Sometimes  it's 
lonesome  at  the  ranch,"  Jardine  remarked. 

Jimmy  said  he  hoped  his  guests  would  stay  for  some 
days,  but  Jardine  refused. 

"At  Kelshope  work's  aye  waiting  and  we'll  start 
the  morn.  If  ye  come  back  wi'  us,  we'll  look  ower 


76  NORTHWEST! 

the  block  ye  bought,  and  I  might  advise  ye  aboot  layin' 
't  oot.  In  the  meantime,  we'll  reckon  up  the  tools 
and  stock  ye'll  need — " 

They  began  to  talk  about  the  ranch,  and  Stannard 
joined  Laura,  who  sent  off  her  companion. 

"What  do  you  think  about  Jimmy's  experiment?" 
Stannard  asked. 

Laura  studied  him.  On  the  whole,  his  look  was 
careless,  but  she  doubted. 

"I  don't  know.  Do  you  think  him  rash?" 

Stannard  shrugged.  "My  notion  is,  the  thing's  a 
rather  expensive  caprice,  but  after  all,  Jimmy's  rich. 
He's  easily  moved  and  perhaps  his  bush  friends  have 
persuaded  him." 

"It's  possible,"  Laura  agreed.  "All  the  same, 
Jimmy's  keen.  He  really  means  to  ranch." 

"You  have  some  grounds  to  know  him  keen  ?" 

Laura's  grounds  were  good  and  she  wondered 
whether  Stannard  knew.  Her  father  was  clever  and 
she  saw  his  look  was  thoughtful. 

"For  one  thing,  he  declares  he  cannot  go  with  us 
to  Puget  Sound,"  she  said. 

"You  imply  he  would  sooner  start  for  the  bush  with 
the  Jardines?"  Stannard  suggested  with  a  smile. 

"After  all,  it's  not  important,  and  I  expect  Jimmy 
will  go  where  he  wants,"  said  Laura,  and  went  up  the 
veranda  steps. 

She  thought  she  had  baffled  Stannard,  but  she  was 
hurt.  At  the  beginning,  she  knew  her  advice  to  Jimmy 
was  good.  When  he  was  going  the  wrong  way  she 


JIMMY  GETS  TO  WORK  77 

had  stopped  him.  Now,  however,  it  looked  as  if  her 
power  was  gone.  She  could  see  herself  Jimmy's  guide 
in  Lancashire,  but  to  guide  him  in  the  lonely  bush 
was  another  thing. 


IX 

THE  QUIET  WOODS 

A  WARM  Chinook  wind,  blowing  from  the  Pacific, 
•*•  *•  carried  the  smell  of  the  pines.  The  dark  branches 
tossed  and  a  languid  murmur,  like  distant  surf,  rolled 
up  the  valley.  Jimmy  had  pulled  off  his  coat  and  his 
gray  workman's  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck,  for  he 
liked  to  feel  the  breeze  on  his  hot  skin.  He  was  split- 
ting cedar  for  roof  shingles,  but  had  stopped  in  order 
to  sharpen  his  ax.  Since  he  had  not  yet  cut  his  leg, 
he  thought  his  luck  was  good. 

A  few  maples,  beginning  to  turn  crimson,  broke  the 
rows  of  somber  pines.  In  the  foreground  were 
chopped  trunks,  blackened  by  fire,  ashes  and  white 
chips.  A  tent  and  a  half -built  house  of  notched  logs 
occupied  the  middle  of  the  small  clearing.  In  the 
background,  one  saw  high  rocks,  streaked  at  their 
dark  tops  by  snow.  Some  of  the  snow  was  fresh, 
and  Jimmy  imagined  the  speed  he  had  used  was  jus- 
tified. Yet,  so  long  as  the  Chinook  blew,  gentle  In- 
dian summer  would  brood  over  the  valley. 

Jimmy's  skin  was  brown,  his  mouth  was  firm,  and 
his  look  alert.  His  hands  were  blistered  and  his  back 
was  sore,  but  this  was  not  important.  He  could  now 
pull  a  big  saw  through  gummy  logs  and,  as  a  rule, 

drive  the  shining  ax-head  where  he  wanted  it  to  go. 

78 


THE  QUIET  WOODS  79 

A  belt  held  his  overalls  tight  at  his  waist;  when  he 
tilted  back  his  head  to  get  his  breath  his  balance  and 
pose  were  good. 

A  plume  of  aromatic  smoke  floated  across  the  clear- 
ing and  Okanagan  Bob  squatted  by  the  fire.  Bob's  hair 
was  black  and  straight  and  his  eyes  were  narrow. 
His  crouching  pose  was  significant,  because  a  white 
man  sits.  Bob's  skin  was  white,  but  it  looked  as  if 
some  Indian  blood  ran  in  his  veins.  He  was  an  accu- 
rate shot  and  a  clever  fisherman.  Now  he  fried  trout 
for  breakfast  and  Jimmy  wondered  whether  he  would 
leave  the  fish  long  enough  in  the  pan.  As  a  rule,  Bob 
did  not  cook  things  much. 

"Somebody's  coming,"  he  remarked  and  began  to 
eat.  "Take  your  fish  when  you  want.  I've  got  to 
pull  out." 

For  a  minute  or  two  Jimmy  heard  nothing,  and 
then  a  faint  beat  of  horse's  feet  stole  across  the  woods. 
The  noise  got  louder  and  by  and  by  Margaret  rode 
into  the  clearing.  When  Jimmy  jumped  for  his  jacket 
she  smiled  and  the  nervous  cayuse  plunged.  In  the 
bush,  all  goes  quietly  and  abrupt  movement  means 
danger. 

Margaret  rode  astride.  Her  dress  was  dull  yellow 
and  her  leggings  were  fringed  deer-skin.  At  the  hotel, 
Jimmy  had  approved  her  blue  clothes,  but  he  thought 
he  liked  her  better  in  the  bush.  Somehow  she  har- 
monized with  the  straight  trunks.  It  was  not  that  she 
was  finely  built  and  beautiful;  one  got  a  hint  of  primi- 
tive calm  and  strength. 


80  NORTHWEST! 

"Shall  I  hold  the  bridle?"  Jimmy  asked. 

"I  think  not,"  said  Margaret  and  soothed  the  horse. 
"Another  time  when  you  took  the  bridle  I  was  forced 
to  walk  home  and  you  got  a  kick." 

"On  the  whole,  I  think  my  luck  was  good,"  Jimmy 
rejoined.  "When  I  went  to  Kelshope,  things,  so  to 
speak,  began  to  move." 

Margaret  got  down,  took  a  pack  from  the  saddle, 
and  tied  the  horse  to  a  tree.  Bob  got  up  from  the 
fire,  seized  his  rifle,  and  looked  at  Margaret. 

"I'm  going  to  get  a  deer,"  he  said  and  vanished  in 
the  wood.  The  underbrush  was  thick,  but  they  did 
not  hear  him  go. 

"When  I  was  at  the  station  the  agent  gave  me  your 
mail  and  some  groceries,"  said  Margaret.  "My  father 
allowed  you  were  busy,  and  I'd  better  take  the  truck 
along." 

Jimmy  said,  "Thank  you,"  and  gave  her  a  thought- 
ful look.  Margaret's  voice  was  cultivated,  but  she 
talked  like  a  bush  girl.  At  the  hotel  she  had  not. 

"I  didn't  order  a  fruit  pie  and  a  number  of  ban- 
nocks," he  said  when  he  opened  the  pack. 

"Oh,  well,  I  was  baking,  and  I  reckoned  if  Bob  was 
cook,  you  wouldn't  get  much  dessert.  But  have  you 
eaten  yet?" 

Jimmy  said  he  imagined  breakfast  was  ready  and 
Margaret  went  to  the  fire,  glanced  at  the  half -raw 
trout,  and  threw  a  black,  doughy  cake  from  a  plate. 

"A  white  man  cooks  his  food,"  she  said  meaningly. 
"Take  a  smoke  while  I  fix  something  fit  to  eat." 


THE  QUIET  WOODS  81 

Jimmy  pushed  two  or  three  letters  into  his  pocket 
and  sat  down  on  a  cedar  log.  If  Margaret  meant 
to  cook  his  breakfast,  he  imagined  she  would  do  so 
and  he  was  satisfied  to  watch  her.  For  one  thing, 
she  knew  her  job,  and  Jimmy  liked  to  see  all  done 
properly.  She  did  not  bother  him  for  things;  she 
seemed  to  know  where  they  were.  After  a  time,  she 
put  the  trout  and  some  thin  light  cakes  on  a  slab 
of  bark,  and  Jimmy  remarked  that  the  fish  were  an 
appetizing  golden  brown. 

"I  expect  you  have  not  got  breakfast,  and  I'll  bring 
you  a  plate,"  he  said. 

"At  a  bush  ranch  the  woman  gets  the  plates." 

"There's  not  much  use  in  pretending  the  bush  rules 
are  yours,"  Jimmy  rejoined.  "Anyhow,  I'll  bring  you 
all  you  want." 

"Wash  the  plate,  please,"  said  Margaret.  "I'd 
sooner  you  did  not  rub  it  with  the  towel." 

Jimmy  laughed.  "You  take  things  for  granted.  I'm 
not  a  complete  bushman  yet." 

He  cleaned  the  plates  and  knives,  and  Margaret 
studied  him.  Something  of  his  carelessness  and  the 
hint  of  indulgence  she  had  noted  were  gone.  His 
face  had  got  thin  and  his  frank  glance  was  steady. 
Although  he  laughed,  his  laugh  was  quiet.  The  bush 
was  hardening  him,  and  when  she  looked  about  she 
saw  the  progress  he  had  made  was  good.  Well,  she 
knew  Jimmy  was  not  a  loafer ;  after  the  cayuse  kicked 
his  leg  he  carried  her  heavy  pack  to  the  ranch. 

"Now  we  can  get  to  work,"  he  said. 


82  NORTHWEST! 

Margaret  allowed  him  to  put  a  trout  and  some  hot 
flapjacks  on  her  plate. 

"After  all,  I  like  it  when  people  bring  me  things," 
she  remarked.  "At  Kelshope,  when  one  wants  a  thing 
one  goes  for  it.  I  reckon  your  friends  ring  a  bell." 

"Perhaps  both  plans  have  some  drawbacks.  Still 
I  don't  see  why  you  bother  to  indicate  that  you  do 
not  ring  bells." 

"It  looks  as  if  you're  pretty  keen,"  said  Margaret. 

"Keener  than  you  thought?  Well,  not  long  since 
I'd  have  admitted  I  was  something  of  a  fool.  Any- 
how, I  rather  think  you  know  the  Canadian  cities." 

"At  Toronto  I  stopped  at  a  cheap  boarding-house. 
They  rang  bells  for  you.  If  you  were  not  in  right 
on  time  for  meals,  you  went  without.  You  didn't  ask 
for  the  menu;  you  took  what  the  waitress  brought. 
Now  you  ought  to  be  satisfied.  I'm  not  curious  about 
your  job  in  the  Old  Country." 

"I'm  not  at  all  reserved,"  Jimmy  rejoined.  "I  occu- 
pied a  desk  at  a  cotton  mill  office,  and  wrote  up  lists 
of  goods  in  a  big  book,  until  I  couldn't  stand  for  it. 
Then  I  quit." 

Margaret  weighed  his  statement  and  imagined  he 
had  used  some  reserve.  For  a  clerk  at  a  cotton  mill 
to  tour  about  Canada  with  rich  people  was  strange. 

"You  talk  about  the  Old  Country,  although  you 
stated  you  were  altogether  Canadian,"  Jimmy  re- 
sumed. 

"My  father's  a  Scot.    He  came  from  the  Border." 

"Your  name  indicates  it.     The  Jardines  and  two 


THE  QUIET  WOODS  83 

or  three  other  clans  ruled  the  Western  Border,  but 
were  themselves  a  stubborn,  unruly  lot.  Your  ances- 
tors were  famous.  I  know  their  haunts  in  Annan- 
dale." 

"I  reckon  my  father  was  a  poacher,"  Margaret  ob- 
served. 

Jimmy  laughed.  "It's  possible  the  others  were 
something  like  that.  Anyhow,  their  main  occupation 
was  to  drive  off  English  cattle,  but  we  won't  bother — " 

He  stopped  and  mused.  Sometimes,  when  he  was 
at  the  cotton  mill,  he  had  gone  for  a  holiday  to  the 
bleak  Scottish  moors.  The  country  was  romantic, 
but  rather  bleak  than  beautiful,  and  he  had  thought 
a  touch  of  the  old  Mosstroopers'  spirit  marked  their 
descendants.  The  men  were  big  and  their  Scottish 
soberness  hid  a  vein  of  reckless  humor.  They  were 
keen  sportsmen  and  bold  poachers.  When  one  studied 
them,  one  noted  their  stubbornness  and  something 
Jimmy  thought  was  quiet  pride.  Margaret  had  got 
the  puzzling  quality ;  one  marked  her  calm  level  glance 
and  her  rather  haughty  carriage.  Although  she  was 
a  bush  rancher's  daughter,  Jimmy  did  not  think  he 
exaggerated  much. 

"Your  house  is  going  up  and  you  have  cleared  some 
ground,"  she  said.  "It  looks  as  if  you  had  not 
slouched." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Jimmy  modestly,  "your  father  reck- 
oned I  must  push  ahead  before  the  frost  began;  but 
if  we  have  made  some  progress,  I  imagine  Bob  is 
mainly  accountable." 


84  NORTHWEST! 

"Do  you  like  Okanagan?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Jimmy  replied  in  a  thoughtful  voice. 
"He  stays  with  his  job,  and  puts  it  over,  but  he  doesn't 
talk.  Unless  he's  chopping  and  you  hear  his  ax,  you 
don't  know  where  he  is.  He  steals  about.  In  fact, 
the  fellow  puzzles  me.  What's  his  proper  busi- 
ness?" 

"Bob's  a  trapper.  To  get  valuable  skins  you  must 
go  far  North,  but  the  black  bear  are  pretty  numerous 
and  sometimes  a  cinnamon  comes  down  the  rocks. 
Then  tourists  give  a  good  price  for  a  big-horn's  head. 
I  reckon  Bob's  wad  was  getting  big,  until  the  poli- 
ticians resolved  to  see  the  game  laws  were  carried 
out.  Now  you  must  buy  a  license  before  you  shoot 
large  animals,  and  you  may  only  shoot  one  or  two. 
Then  reserves  are  fixed  where  you  may  not  shoot  at 
all.  The  belt  across  the  range  is  a  reserve  and  the 
game-warden  made  some  trouble  for  Bob.  Perhaps 
this  accounts  for  his  hiring  up  with  you." 

"Do  you  like  the   fellow?" 

Margaret  hesitated.  She  did  not  like  Bob,  but  she 
did  not  mean  to  enlighten  Jimmy.  Sometimes  Bob 
came  to  Kelshope  and  when  he  fixed  his  strange  glance 
on  her  she  got  disturbed. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "if  I  wanted  a  loghouse  put  up 
or  the  timber  wolves  cleared  off,  I'd  send  for  Okana- 
gan; but  I'd  stop  there.  He's  not  the  sort  I'd  want 
for  a  friend." 

"You  imply,  if  you  were  a  rancher,  you  wouldn't 
want  him  for  a  friend  ?" 


THE  QUIET  WOODS  85 

Margaret's  eyes  twinkled.  "Why,  of  course,  I  im- 
plied something  like  that." 

"But  Bob  goes  to  Kelshope,  and  Mr.  Jardine  sug- 
gested my  hiring  him." 

"My  father's  a  bushman,"  said  Margaret,  rather 
dryly.  "His  habit's  not  to  get  stung;  but  we'll  let  it 
go.  What  about  your  chickens?" 

Jimmy  had  sent  for  some  poultry,  and  so  long  as 
Margaret  was  willing  to  stop,  he  was  satisfied  to  talk 
about  his  flock.  Sometimes  the  bush  was  lonely  and 
to  sit  opposite  Margaret  had  charm.  She  banished 
the  loneliness  and  gave  his  rude  fireside  a  homely 
touch.  By  and  by,  however,  she  got  up. 

"I  have  stopped  some  time  and  you  ought  to  get 
busy." 

She  would  not  take  his  help  to  mount.  She  seized 
the  bridle,  stroked  the  cayuse,  and  was  in  the  saddle. 
The  horse  plunged  into  the  fern,  Margaret  waved  her 
hand  and  vanished,  but  for  a  few  minutes  Jimmy 
smoked  and  pondered. 

He  thought  Margaret  harmonized  with  the  quiet, 
austere  woods,  but  although  she  talked  like  a  bush 
girl,  he  wondered  whether  she  had  not  done  so  in 
order  to  baffle  him.  Anyhow,  he  hoped  she  would 
come  back  and  cook  his  breakfast  another  time.  He 
could  not  see  Laura  Stannard  beating  up  dough  for 
flapjacks  by  his  fire.  Laura's  proper  background  was 
an  English  drawing-room.  She  had  grace  and  charm, 
and  on  the  hotel  terrace  Jimmy  was  keen  about  her 
society.  Then  Laura  was  a  good  sort  and  he  owed 


86  NORTHWEST! 

her  much;  the  strange  thing  was,  although  she  had 
stated  he  ought  to  follow  a  useful  occupation,  she 
did  not  approve  his  ranching  experiment.  In  fact, 
she  had  urged  him  to  go  back  to  the  cotton  mill. 
Jimmy  admitted  he  was  rather  hurt  because  she  was 
willing  for  him  to  go.  Now,  however,  her  picture 
began  to  get  indistinct.  The  bush  called  and  Laura 
did  not  harmonize  with  the  woods. 

Then  Jimmy  remembered  Margaret  had  brought 
him  some  letters  and  when  he  pulled  out  an  envelope 
with  an  Indian  stamp,  his  look  was  anxious.  Sir 
James,  however,  stated  that  his  London  agents  would 
send  a  check  on  a  Canadian  bank,  and  when  Jimmy 
wanted  to  stock  his  ranch  his  bills  would  be  met. 
Sir  James  remarked  that  to  buy  cattle  was  better  than 
to  bet  on  horses  that  did  not  win,  and  chopping  trees 
was  not,  by  contrast  with  some  other  amusements, 
very  expensive.  Moreover,  if  Jimmy  got  tired,  he 
could  sell  the  ranch.  He  added  that  he  was  presently 
going  to  Japan  and  afterwards  to  England  by  the 
Canadian  Pacific  line.  When  he  crossed  Canada,  he 
would  stop  and  look  his  nephew  up. 

Jimmy  liked  his  uncle's  rather  dry  humor,  and  ad- 
mitted that  some  of  his  remarks  were  justified,  for 
when  Jimmy  went  to  the  races  his  luck  was  bad,  but 
he  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  picked  up  his  ax. 
For  some  time  he  had  talked  and  smoked  and,  unless 
he  hustled,  the  shingles  he  wanted  would  not  be  split 
by  dark. 


X 

LAURA'S  REFUSAL 

OMOKE  rolled  about  the  clearing  and  dry  branches 
^  snapped  in  the  flames.  A  keen  wind  fanned  the 
blaze  and  in  places  the  fire  leaped  up  the  trees  and 
resinous  needles  fell  in  sparkling  showers.  Okanagan 
Bob  went  about  with  a  coal-oil  can,  and  Jimmy  drove 
the  red  oxen  that  hauled  loads  of  brush.  Jimmy's 
face  was  black,  his  hand  was  burned,  and  his  shirt 
was  marked  by  dark-edged  holes,  but  his  mood  was 
buoyant.  The  fire  had  got  firm  hold  and  advanced 
steadily  across  the  belt  of  chopped  trunks  and  branches 
bushmen  call  the  slashing.  When  it  burned  out  Jimmy 
thought  only  half -consumed  logs  would  be  left.  A 
good  burn  ought  to  save  him  much  labor. 

Perhaps  his  keenness  was  strange.  To  clear  a  ranch 
is  a  long  and  arduous  job  that  he  was  not  forced 
to  undertake;  but  he  was  keen.  His  occupation,  so 
to  speak,  had  got  hold  of  him.  Moreover  he  felt, 
rather  vaguely,  it  was  a  test  of  his  endurance  and 
pluck.  Since  he  left  the  cotton  mill  he  had  loafed 
and  squandered;  now  he  had  got  a  man's  job,  and 
when  the  job  was  carried  out  he  would  know  himself 
a  man. 

By  and  by  he  stopped  the  oxen  in  front  of  the 

87 


88  NORTHWEST! 

house.  A  few  yards  off  Deering  notched  the  end 
of  a  log.  He  wore  long  boots,  overall  trousers  and 
a  torn  shirt.  His  face  was  red,  but  his  big  body 
followed  the  sweep  of  the  ax  with  a  measured  swing 
and  the  shining  blade  went  deep  into  the  log.  Deer- 
ing  had  arrived  a  few  days  before  to  arrange  about 
a  hunting  excursion. 

"You  have  put  up  a  fresh  log  since  I  came  along. 
You  chop  like  a  bushman,"  Jimmy  remarked. 

"Two  logs,"  said  Deering  and  dropped  his  ax.  "I 
reckon  I  am  a  bushman.  Anyhow  I  was  born  at  a  small 
Ontario  ranch,  and  hired  up  at  another  in  Michigan." 

Jimmy  was  surprised.  Although  Deering  was  not 
at  all  like  Stannard,  his  habits  were  extravagant  and 
nothing  indicated  that  he  had  engaged  in  bodily  labor. 
He  saw  Jimmy's  surprise  and  laughed. 

"For  a  few  minutes  I'll  cool  off  and  take  a  smoke," 
he  resumed.  "Chopping's  a  healthy  occupation,  but  I 
soon  had  enough.  I  was  out  for  money  and  wasn't 
satisfied  to  earn  two-and-a-half  a  day.  Then  in  Can- 
ada, and  I  reckon  in  Michigan,  you  don't  get  two  gen- 
erations to  stay  on  the  land.  You  clear  a  ranch,  but 
your  son  weighs  all  you're  up  against  and  resolves  to 
quit.  He  reckons  keeping  store  at  a  settlement  is  a 
softer  job." 

"Did  you  keep  a  store?" 

"I  ran  a  pool  room.  After  a  time,  a  women's  re- 
form guild  got  busy  and  the  town  reeve  hinted  I'd 
better  get  out." 

Jimmy  laughed.    He  liked  Deering's  frankness,  but 


LAURA'S  REFUSAL  89 

he  said,  "I  suppose  Dillon  left  Stannard  at  Puget 
Sound?  He  talked  about  going  to  Colorado." 

"When  we  had  stopped  a  week  or  two  at  the  Dillon 
house,  Frank  reckoned  he'd  come  back  with  us,"  Deer- 
ing  replied  with  some  dryness.  "Frank  has  not  bought 
a  ranch,  but  he's  steadying  up  and  I  imagine  Miss 
Laura  has  got  after  him.  Anyhow,  he's  cut  out  cards 
and  bets  with  me.  Looks  as  if  Miss  Laura  had  some 
talent  for  steering  young  men  into  the  proper  track." 

The  blood  came  to  Jimmy's  skin,  but  Deering's  hu- 
morous twinkle  did  not  account  for  all.  Jimmy  did 
not  like  to  think  about  Laura's  steering  Dillon ;  he  felt 
Laura  was  his  guide  and  not  the  other's. 

"If  you  go  back  to  the  hotel  in  the  afternoon,  I'll 
come  along,"  he  said.  "Perhaps  I  ought  to  see  Stan- 
nard about  our  hunting  trip." 

"He  stated  he  wanted  to  see  you,"  Deering  replied 
with  a  careless  nod  and  resumed  his  chopping. 

When  the  fire  had  burned  out  they  started  for  the 
hotel,  but  they  arrived  after  dinner  and  Laura  was 
engaged  with  other  guests.  In  the  morning  she  went 
off  to  the  lake  with  Dillon  and  one  or  two  more  whom 
Jimmy  did  not  know,  and  since  she  did  not  sugges.t 
his  joining  the  party,  he  loafed  about  the  hotel.  It 
looked  as  if  she  was  satisfied  with  Dillon's  society 
and  did  not  want  his. 

Jimmy  was  hurt,  and  sitting  on  the  terrace,  he 
smoked  and  pondered.  From  the  beginning  he  had 
felt  Laura's  charm,  although  he  had  not  thought  him- 
self her  lover;  for  one  thing,  he  knew  his  drawbacks. 


90  NORTHWEST! 

Yet  Laura  liked  Dillon,  whose  drawbacks  were  as 
obvious  as  his.  Somehow  Jimmy  had  taken  it  for 
granted  he  had  a  particular  claim  to  her  friendship, 
but  if  the  friendship  must  be  shared  with  Frank  its 
charm  was  gone. 

After  an  hour  or  two  his  resolution  began  to  harden. 
Perhaps  his  asking  Laura  to  marry  him  was  not  as 
ridiculous  as  he  had  thought.  At  all  events,  he  would 
take  the  plunge.  She  knew  he  had  stopped  loafing 
and  started  on  a  fresh  line,  and  his  having  done  so 
because  she  urged  it  was  a  useful  argument.  Jimmy 
admitted  he  did  not  see  Laura  helping  at  the  ranch, 
but  this  was  not  important.  So  long  as  she  engaged 
to  marry  him  when  he  made  good,  he  would  be  re- 
signed. If  she  hesitated,  he  must  try  to  indicate  some- 
thing like  that. 

In  the  evening  Laura  returned  from  the  lake,  but 
for  some  time  after  dinner  she  was  engaged  with  her 
party  and  left  Jimmy  alone.  Jimmy  did  not  join  the 
group,  for  the  suspense  bothered  him  and  the  others' 
light  banter  jarred.  He  thought  it  strange,  but  he 
felt  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  careless  people 
whose  society  Laura  enjoyed.  When  he  had  talked 
to  Laura  he  was  going  back  to  the  quiet  woods. 

At  length  Laura  came  along  the  terrace  and  Jimmy 
braced  himself.  She  wore  a  black  dinner  dress  and 
when  a  beam  from  the  window  touched  her  Jimmy 
thought  her  skin  shone  like  the  snow  on  the  rocks. 
Then  she  turned  her  head  and  looked  back.  The  tran- 
quil movement  was  strangely  graceful,  but  Jimmy 


LAURA'S  REFUSAL  91 

frowned.  Dillon  had  obviously  meant  to  go  with 
Laura,  and  although  she  motioned  him  back  Jimmy 
knew  she  smiled.  He  fetched  a  chair  and  leaned 
against  the  terrace  wall. 

"Well,  Jimmy,"  she  said  in  a  careless  voice,  "you 
don't  look  very  bright." 

"It's  possible.  You  haven't  talked  to  me  for  five 
minutes  since  I  arrived." 

"I  was  on  the  terrace.  Had  you  wanted  to  join 
us,  you  could  have  done  so." 

"If  you  had  wanted  me,  I  expect  you'd  have  indi- 
cated it." 

"Sometimes  you're  rather  keen,"  Laura  remarked. 
"Still  sometimes  you  are  obstinate.  I  have  known 
you  do  things  I  would  sooner  you  did  not." 

"I  expect  I'm  dull,  for  I  don't  know  if  you  imply 
that  my  obstinacy  would  not  have  annoyed  you.  Any- 
how, I  left  the  ranch  because  I  wanted  to  see  you.  I 
didn't  want  to  stand  about  with  the  others  and  laugh 
at  their  poor  jokes.  They're  a  slack  and  careless  lot." 

Laura  looked  up.  Jimmy's  mouth  was  firm  and  she 
thought  him  highly  strung.  He  was  thin  and  hard 
and  his  pose  was  good.  In  fact,  she  felt  he  was  not 
altogether  the  raw  lad  she  had  known. 

"Not  long  since,  you  rather  cultivated  people  like 
that  and  tried  to  use  their  rules,"  she  said.  "I  think 
you  made  some  progress." 

"Oh,  well,  I  own  I  was  a  fool  and  I  owe  you  some- 
thing because  you  helped  me  see  my  folly.  To  take 
the  proper  line  at  a  ball  and  a  dinner  party,  to  shoot 


92  NORTHWEST! 

straight  and  play  a  useful  game  at  cards  is  perhaps 
a  sound  ambition,  but  I  begin  to  doubt  if  it's  worth 
the  effort  it  costs.  In  the  woods,  one  gets  another 
ambition." 

Laura  smiled.  "You're  impulsive.  When  one  indi- 
cates the  way  for  you  to  go,  you  go  much  faster  than 
one  thinks,  but  we  won't  philosophize.  Did  it  not  cost 
you  something  to  leave  your  ranch  ?" 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  said  Jimmy  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"I'd  better  state  my  object,  because  in  a  minute  or 
two  I  expect  your  friends  will  come  along — 

Laura  thought  not.  The  end  of  the  terrace  was 
not  lighted.  She  and  Jimmy  were  in  the  gloom  and 
the  others  were  not  very  dull. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

"I  wanted  to  ask  if  you  will  marry  me?" 

For  a  few  moments  Laura  said  nothing  and  Jimmy 
noted  that  her  pose  was  very  quiet.  Then  she  looked 
up. 

"You  are  very  young,  Jimmy." 

"I'm  not  younger  than  you.  Besides,  I  don't  see 
what  my  youth  has  to  do  with  it." 

"Your  youth  is  a  drawback,"  said  Laura  thought- 
fully. "You  will  inherit  a  large  fortune,  but  I  am 
poor,  and  if  I  married  you,  your  trustees  would  im- 
agine I,  and  my  father,  had  planned  to  capture  you." 

"Now  you  are  ridiculous!"  Jimmy  declared.  "You 
have  talent,  beauty,  and  cultivation  :  I'm  raw  and  know 
nothing  but  the  cotton  mill.  You  ought  to  see,  if  I 
can  persuade  you,  the  gain  is  altogether  mine." 


LAURA'S  REFUSAL  93 

Laura  gently  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  see  it,  Jimmy, 
and  others  would  not." 

"Dick  Leyland  might  grumble,"  Jimmy  admitted 
with  a  frown.  "For  all  that,  he  has  nothing  to  do 
with  my  marrying,  and  Sir  Jim  is  another  type.  He'd 
fall  in  love  with  you — " 

He  stopped  and  Laura  pondered.  She  must  make 
a  good  marriage  and  the  marriage  Jimmy  urged  was 
good,  but  she  saw  some  obstacles.  For  one  thing, 
she  did  not  love  Jimmy.  Ambition  called,  but  she 
calculated.  If  he  would  take  the  line  she  thought  he 
ought  to  take,  she  might  agree. 

"If  you  were  at  the  cotton  mill  and  claimed  your 
proper  post,  all  would  be  easier,"  she  said.  "Your 
uncles  could  not  then  dispute  your  right  to  marry  whom 
you  liked." 

Jimmy's  laugh  was  scornful.  "My  uncles  control 
my  fortune  for  a  year  or  two;  that's  all.  However, 
if  you  hesitate,  I  won't  urge  you  to  marry  me  yet. 
If  you  engage  to  do  so  when  I  get  my  inheritance, 
I'll  be  satisfied." 

The  blood  came  to  Laura's  skin.  Jimmy's  keenness 
was  not  remarkable,  but  she  knew  his  sincerity  and 
she  forced  a  smile. 

"You  are  philosophical." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Jimmy  with  some  embarrassment, 
"I  feel  I  ought  not  to  urge  you  now.  I  wanted  to  know 
you  belonged  to  me,  and  then  I  needn't  bother  when 
I'm  at  the  ranch —  The  trouble  is,  if  I  waited,  some- 
body might  carry  you  off.  So  long  as  you  agree — " 


94  NORTHWEST! 

Laura's  look  got  rather  hard.  When  she  wanted 
him  to  go  back  to  England  she  was  not  altogether 
selfish.  Although  she  did  not  love  him,  she  liked 
Jimmy,  and  felt  he  ought  not  to  stay  in  Canada  with 
Stannard  and  Deering. 

"Then,  you  mean  to  go  on  at  the  ranch?"  she  said. 

"Of  course.  You  declare  I'm  young.  I  feel  I  must 
take  a  useful  job  and,  so  to  speak,  make  good.  Be- 
sides, I  can't  go  back  to  Lancashire  to  be  ruled  by 
Uncle  Dick.  When  I  take  my  inheritance,  it  will  be 
another  thing.  Then,  when  you  own  a  ranch,  there's 
something  about  the  woods  that  calls.  You  get  keen; 
to  plan  and  work  is  not  a  bother." 

"But  is  the  reward  for  your  labor  worth  while?" 

"In  money,  the  reward  is  not  worth  while ;  but  that's 
not  important.  Somehow  I  know  Dick  Leyland  is  not 
carrying  on  the  house's  business  as  it  ought  to  be  car- 
ried on.  We  are  getting  rich,  but  we  cannot  much 
longer  use  his  old-fashioned  parsimonious  rules. 
Jim's  at  Bombay,  and  there's  no  use  in  my  making 
plans  for  Dick  to  oppose.  You  see,  I  have  nothing 
to  go  upon.  For  five  years  I  was  a  clerk,  like  our 
other  clerks;  afterwards  I  was  a  careless  slacker,  and 
Dick  would  sternly  put  me  down.  But  I've  stated 
something  like  this  before.  You  ought  to  see — " 

Laura  saw  he  had  some  grounds  for  his  resolve  to 
remain.  Still  she  did  not  see  herself  helping  at  the 
ranch  and  to  wait,  for  perhaps  three  or  four  years, 
while  he  carried  out  his  rash  experiment  was  not  her 
plan.  She  imagined  his  trustees  would  not  approve 


LAURA'S  REFUSAL  95 

his  marrying  her  and  they  controlled  his  fortune  and 
were  clever  business  men.  Yet  had  she  loved  Jimmy, 
she  might  have  agreed.  In  the  meantime,  he  studied 
her  with  keen  suspense,  and  getting  up,  she  gave  him 
a  quiet  resolute  look. 

"You  must  let  me  go,"  she  said.  "I  like  you,  Jimmy, 
but  I  am  not  the  girl  for  you." 

Jimmy  tried  to  brace  himself  and  advanced  as  if 
he  meant  to  touch  her,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"I  ought  not  to  return  to  Lancashire  yet;  but  if 
that's  the  obstacle,  I'll  start  when  you  like,"  he  said, 
in  rather  a  hoarse  voice. 

Laura  was  moved.  In  fact,  she  was  moved  to  gen- 
erosity. Now  she  had  conquered,  the  strange  thing 
was,  she  knew  she  must  not  use  her  triumph.  Although 
Jimmy  was  beaten,  she  admitted  his  firmness  at  the 
beginning  was  justified,  and  she  thought  he  would 
after  a  time  repent. 

"I  see  some  other  obstacles,"  she  replied.  "Since 
you  are  satisfied  that  your  proper  job  is  in  Canada, 
you  must  carry  it  out.  There  is  no  use  in  talking, 
Jimmy.  I  am  not  at  all  the  girl  for  you." 

Her  resolution  was  obvious,  and  Jimmy  stepped 
back.  Laura  gave  him  a  friendly  smile  and  went 
off.  Jimmy  frowned,  for  although  he  had  doubted 
if  he  could  persuade  her,  he  had  got  a  nasty  knock. 
At  the  other  end  of  the  terrace  Stannard  joined  Laura 
and  indicated  Jimmy. 

"Well?"  he  said. 

"Jimmy  wanted  me  to  marry  him.     I  refused." 


96  NORTHWEST! 

"Ah,"  said  Stannard.  "I  suppose  you  had  some 
grounds  for  your  refusal?" 

"I  imagine  he  does  not  love  me,"  Laura  replied  in 
a  quiet  voice. 

Stannard  studied  her.  Her  color  was  rather  high, 
but  she  was  calm.  In  some  respects,  she  was  like  her 
mother  and  not  like  him.  Stannard  was  satisfied  it 
was  so. 

"Yet  he  asked  you  to  marry  him!" 

"Perhaps  I  am  attractive;  but  now  I  think  about 
it,  he  did  not  urge  me  much.  For  all  that,  Jimmy  is 
a  good  sort." 

For  a  few  moments  Stannard  said  nothing.  Laura 
imagined  he  had  meant  her  to  marry  Jimmy  and  her 
refusal  bothered  him.  Yet  his  look  rather  indicated 
resignation  than  anger.  She  really  did  not  know  her 
father,  but  he  was  kind. 

"Jimmy  is  a  good  sort,"  he  remarked.  "He  has 
some  other  advantages." 

"His  advantages  are  obvious ;  he's  sincere  and  frank 
and  generous,"  Laura  agreed  with  a  touch  of  emotion. 
"Had  he  not  been  like  that,  I  might  have  risked  it." 

Stannard  shrugged.  "Perhaps  you're  not  altogether 
logical;  but  it's  done  with." 

"I'm  sorry,  father,"  said  Laura  in  a  gentle  voice 
and  went  up  the  steps. 

Stannard  stopped  and  his  look  was  sternly  thought- 
ful. He  was  an  adventurer  and  his  scruples  were  not 
numerous,  but  he  had  not  used  his  daughter's  beauty 
as  he  might  have  used  it.  Now  he  knew  he  ran  some 


LAURA'S  REFUSAL  97 

risks  and,  for  her  sake,  he  had  wanted  her  to  marry 
Jimmy.  Well,  she  had  refused,  and  Jimmy  owed  him 
much,  but  for  some  time  could  not  pay.  Stannard 
lighted  a  cigar  and  knitted  his  brows. 


XI 

THE  GAME  RESERVE 

A  T  the  end  of  the  small  open  glade  the  pack-horses 
-**•  dragged  about  their  ropes.  A  short  distance  in 
front,  the  thick  timber  stopped  and  a  mountain  spur 
went  up  to  the  dim  white  peaks.  The  sun  had  gone 
and  the  sky  was  calm  and  green.  One  heard  a  river 
brawl  and  a  faint  wind  in  the  trees.  Deering  lay  in 
the  pine  needles  and  rubbed  his  neck. 

"The  mosquitoes  are  fierce.  Throw  some  green  stuff 
on  the  fire  and  make  a  smoke,"  he  said.  "I  don't  want 
to  get  up." 

Jimmy,  sitting  on  a  log,  pushed  green  branches  into 
the  flames,  and  then  turned  his  head  and  looked  about. 
Two  Indians  were  cutting  poles  and  putting  up  a  tent. 
In  the  gaps  between  the  trunks  the  gloom  got  deep, 
and  although  the  sharp  top  of  the  spur  was  distinct, 
Jimmy  only  saw  a  few  small  pines  and  junipers.  Stan- 
nard  and  Okanagan  Bob,  who  had  gone  up  in  the 
afternoon  to  look  for  a  line  to  the  high  rocks,  were 
not  coming  yet.  The  horses  could  not  go  farther 
and  in  the  morning  the  hunting  party  would  leave 
them  behind. 

"They  recently  let  me  join  a  highbrow  mountain 
club ;  but  when  I  start  for  the  rocks  I  hesitate,"  Deer- 
ing  resumed.  "To  boost  two  hundred  pounds  up  crags 

98 


THE  GAME  RESERVE  99 

and  glaciers  is  a  strenuous  job,  and  I  allow  I'd  sooner 
Stannard  had  brought  the  hotel  guides.  When  I  camp 
I  like  two  blankets  and  a  square  meal.  A  good  guide 
can  carry  a  lot  of  useful  truck." 

"Their  charges  are  high  and  Okanagan  claims  he 
knows  the  big-horn's  haunts." 

"Somehow  I  reckon  Bob  knows  too  much,"  Deer- 
ing  rejoined.  "Well,  I  allow  to  let  you  break  your 
neck  wouldn't  pay  Stannard." 

"In  one  sense,  it  wouldn't  cost  him  much,"  said 
Jimmy,  with  a  laugh.  "You  see,  I  insured  my  life 
in  his  favor  some  time  since." 

"Ah,"  said  Deering,  thoughtfully.  "That  was  when 
he  took  you  down  to  Vancouver?" 

"I  went  down.  The  plan  was  mine.  After  I  fell 
into  the  gully,  I  saw  Stannard  ran  some  risk." 

Deering  grinned.  "I  like  you,  Jimmy !  You're  sure 
an  honest  kid."  Then  his  glance  got  keen  and  he 
resumed:  "Say,  are  you  going  to  marry  Laura?" 

"Miss  Stannard  refused  to  marry  me,"  Jimmy  re- 
plied in  a  quiet  voice.  "But  we  were  talking  about 
the  insurance.  I  rather  urged  Stannard — " 

"Exactly!  Stannard's  a  highbrow  Englishman," 
said  Deering,  but  somehow  Jimmy  thought  his  remark 
ironical.  "Well,  you  urged,  and  since  Stannard  is 
not  rich,  he  agreed?  Perhaps  the  strange  thing  is, 
he  was  able  to  lend  you  a  pretty  good  sum.  Do  you 
know  where  he  gets  the  money  ?" 

"I  don't  know.    It's  not  important." 

"Oh,  well!    You  have  insured  your  life  and  Miss 


100  NORTHWEST! 

Laura  has  refused  you!  She's  a  charming  girl,  but 
since  I  don't  see  her  helping  you  run  a  bush  ranch, 
perhaps  her  refusal  was  justified.  However,  I  think 
somebody's  coming  down  the  ridge." 

Not  long  afterwards  Stannard  and  Bob  reached 
the  camp  and  Stannard  said,  "We  have  found  a  line 
and  we'll  start  at  daybreak.  Bob  now  declares  he  ex- 
pects a  reward  for  each  good  head  we  get." 

"You  can  promise  him  his  bonus.  If  we  shoot  a 
big-horn,  we're  lucky;  the  tourist  sports  have  scared 
them  back  to  the  North."  Deering  remarked. 

They  got  supper  and  went  to  bed.  The  spruce 
twigs  were  soft  and  the  Hudson's  Bay  blankets  were 
warm,  but  for  a  time  Jimmy  did  not  sleep.  The  tent 
door  was  hooked  back  and  the  night  was  not  dark. 
He  saw  the  smoke  go  up  and  the  mist  creep  about 
the  trunks.  Sometimes  a  horse  broke  a  branch  and 
sometimes  the  river's  turmoil  got  louder,  but  this 
was  all  and  Jimmy  missed  the  cow-bells  that  chimed 
at  Kelshope  ranch. 

Perhaps  it  was  strange,  but  Laura's  refusal  had 
not  hurt  him  very  much.  In  fact,  he  began  to  feel 
that  so  long  as  she  did  not  marry  Dillon  he  would 
be  resigned.  Now  Jimmy  came  to  think  about  it, 
Deering's  hint  that  she  attracted  Frank  to  some  ex- 
tent accounted  for  his  resolve  to  marry  Laura.  Any- 
how, Laura  was  his  friend,  and  Stannard  had  used 
tact.  He  was  quietly  sympathetic  and  soon  banished 
Jimmy's  embarrassment.  Then  the  noise  of  the  river 
got  indistinct  and  Jimmy  thought  he  heard  cow-bells 


THE  GAME  RESERVE  101 

ring.  Branches  cracked  and  somebody  called,  "Oh, 
Buck!  Oh,  Bright!" 

At  daybreak  Bob  sent  off  two  Indians  to  wait  for 
the  party  at  another  spot.  He  and  an  Indian  carried 
heavy  loads,  but  all  carried  as  much  as  possible,  be- 
cause Bob  declared  the  party  was  rather  large  for 
good  hunting  and  refused  to  take  another  man.  When 
they  stopped  at  noon  Deering's  face  was  very  red  and 
Jimmy  was  satisfied  to  lie  in  the  stones  while  Bob 
brewed  some  tea. 

After  lunch  they  pushed  through  a  belt  of  timber. 
The  trees  were  small,  but  some  had  fallen  and  blocked 
the  way.  Others,  broken  by  the  wind,  had  not  reached 
the  ground  and  the  locked  branches  held  up  the  slanted 
trunks.  Where  the  underbrush  below  was  thick,  one 
must  crawl  along  the  logs. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  timber  an  avalanche  had 
swept  the  slope,  carrying  down  soil  and  stones,  and 
the  party  was  forced  to  cross  steep  rock  slabs.  Jimmy 
carried  a  rifle,  a  blanket,  and  a  small  bag  of  flour  and 
admitted  that  he  had  got  enough.  To  pitch  camp  at 
sunset  behind  a  few  half-dead  spruce  was  a  keen  re- 
lief. 

They  had  not  a  tent  and  the  cold  was  keen,  but 
where  one  can  find  wood  one  can  build  a  shelter. 
Supper  was  soon  cooked  and  when  they  had  satisfied 
their  appetite  all  were  glad  to  lie  about  the  fire.  Some 
distance  above  them,  untrodden  snow,  touched  with 
faint  pink  by  the  sunset,  glimmered  against  the  green 
sky.  Below,  rocks  and  gravel  went  down  to  the  for- 


102  NORTHWEST! 

est,  across  which  blue  mist  rolled.  Sometimes  a  belt 
of  vapor  melted  and  one  saw  a  vast  dim  gulf  and  a 
winding  line  that  was  a  river.  The  austere  landscape 
rather  braced  than  daunted  Jimmy.  He  knew  the 
Swiss  rocks  and  the  high  snows  called. 

Two  days  afterwards  Jimmy,  one  afternoon,  got 
his  first  shot  at  a  mountain-sheep.  Until  the  big-horn 
moved,  it  looked  like  a  small  gray  stone,  but  it  did 
move  and  when  it  vanished  they  studied  the  ground. 
There  was  no  use  in  trying  a  direct  approach,  but  the 
rocky  slope  was  broken  and  Bob  imagined  they  could 
climb  a  gully  and  come  down  near  the  animal  farther 
on.  They  must,  however,  take  their  loads,  because 
he  had  not  yet  found  a  spot  to  pitch  camp. 

To  climb  the  gully,  embarrassed  by  a  heavy  pack, 
and  a  rifle,  was  hard,  and  for  some  time  afterwards 
they  crawled  across  the  top  of  a  big  buttress.  When 
they  reached  another  gully  the  sun  was  gone,  but  Bob 
thought  they  would  find  the  sheep  not  far  from  the 
bottom.  He  said  two  might  go,  and  when  they  had 
spun  a  coin  Stannard  and  Jimmy  took  off  their  packs. 

The  gully  was  very  steep  and  they  used  some  cau- 
tion. '  Near  the  bottom  Jimmy  slipped  and  might  have 
gone  down  had  not  Stannard  steadied  him.  Bob, 
carrying  the  glasses,  went  a  short  distance  in  front. 
At  the  bottom  he  got  behind  a  stone  and  presently 
waved  his  hand. 

When  Jimmy  reached  the  spot  he  saw  a  horseshoe 
slope  of  rock  and  gravel  that  fell  sharply  for  five  or 


THE  GAME  RESERVE  103 

six  hundred  feet  and  then  stopped,  as  if  at  the  edge 
of  a  precipice.  He  thought  if  the  big-horn  went  down 
there,  they  must  let  it  go.  Then  Bob  touched  his  arm 
and  indicated  a  spot  level  with  them,  but  some  distance 
off.  Something  moved  and  Jimmy,  taking  the  glasses, 
saw  it  was  a  sheep. 

"Your  shot.  Use  a  full  sight ;  it's  farther  than  you 
think,"  said  Stannard  in  a  low  voice,  and  when  Jimmy 
had  pulled  up  the  slide  he  rested  the  rifle  barrel  on 
the  rock. 

His  arm  was  on  the  stone ;  he  knew  he  ought  to  hold 
straight,  but  the  shot  was  long  and  the  hole  in  the 
telescopic  sight  was  small.  Perhaps  he  was  too  keen, 
for  although  Stannard  had  got  a  noble  head,  he  him- 
self had  not  yet  fired  a  shot,  but  when  he  began  to 
pull  the  trigger  his  hand  shook.  He  stopped  and  drew 
his  breath,  and  the  sheep  moved. 

"He's  going,"  said  Bob,  and  Jimmy  crooked  his 
finger. 

The  rifle  jerked.  In  the  distance,  a  small  shower 
of  dust  leaped  up  and  the  sheep  jumped  on  a  stone. 
In  a  moment  it  would  vanish  and  Jimmy  savagely 
snapped  out  the  cartridge.  Then  he  saw  a  pale  flash 
and  knew  the  report  of  Stannard's  English  rifle.  The 
sheep  plunged  from  the  stone,  struck  the  ground,  and 
began  to  roll  down  the  incline.  Its  speed  got  faster 
and  Jimmy  thought  it  went  down  like  a  ball.  In  a 
few  moments  it  would  reach  the  top  of  the  precipice, 
and  if  it  plunged  across  they  would  not  find  its  broken 


104  NORTHWEST! 

body.  Then  it  struck  a  rock  and  stopped,  so  far  as 
one  could  see,  a  few  yards  from  the  edge.  Stannard 
gave  Bob  his  rifle  and  picked  up  the  glasses. 

"A  fine  head!  Call  Deering,  Jimmy.  I  think  we 
can  get  down." 

Jimmy  thought  not,  but  he  shouted  and  Deering 
arrived  and  studied  the  ground. 

"Looks  awkward,  but  perhaps  we  can  make  it." 

"You  have  got  to  make  it!  You  don't  want  to 
leave  a  sheep  like  that  about,"  said  Bob. 

Stannard  gave  him  a  keen  glance,  but  Deering  said, 
"Let's  try;  I've  brought  the  rope.  If  you'll  lead, 
Stannard,  I'll  tie  on  at  the  top.  We'll  leave  Jimmy." 

"Since  I  missed  my  shot,  I  ought  to  go,"  Jimmy 
objected. 

"My  weight's  a  useful  anchor  and  you're  not  up  to 
Stannard's  form,"  Deering  rejoined  and  they  put  on 
the  rope. 

They  started  and  Jimmy  lighted  his  pipe.  He  had 
wanted  the  noble  head  and  Stannard  had  got  another, 
but  Jimmy  was  not  jealous.  Although  Stannard  had 
hardly  had  a  moment  before  the  sheep  went  off,  he 
had  seized  the  moment  to  shoot  and  hit.  In  the  mean- 
time, however,  the  others  were  getting  down  the  slope 
and  Jimmy  used  the  glasses. 

The  job  was  awkward.  Sometimes  the  stones  ran 
down  and  Stannard  hesitated;  Deering  stopped  and 
braced  himself,  ready  to  hold  up  his  companions.  Bob 
was  at  the  middle  of  the  rope  and,  so  far  as  one  could 
see,  was  satisfied  to  follow  Stannard.  They  reached 


THE  GAME  RESERVE  105 

the  sheep,  and  Bob  got  on  his  knees  by  the  animal. 
His  knife  shone  and  after  a  few  minutes  he  gave  Stan- 
nard  the  head. 

Then  it  looked  as  if  they  disputed,  but  Bob  got 
up  and  began  to  drag  the  sheep  to  the  edge.  Jimmy 
was  puzzled,  for  stones  were  plunging  down  and  it 
was  plain  the  fellow  ran  some  risk.  One  could  not 
see  his  object  for  resolving  to  get  rid  of  the  headless 
body.  After  a  minute  or  two  he  pushed  the  sheep 
over  the  edge  and  the  party  began  to  climb  the  slope. 

They  got  to  the  top,  and  going  up  the  gully,  after 
a  time  found  a  corner  in  the  rocks  and  pitched  camp. 
Bob  and  the  Indian  had  carried  up  a  small  quantity  of 
wood  and  when  they  cooked  supper  Stannard  re- 
marked :  "I  expect  you're  satisfied  nobody  in  the  valley 
could  see  our  fire?" 

"Nobody's  in  the  valley,  anyhow,"  said  Bob. 

"Then,  my  seeing  smoke  was  strange,"  Stannard  re- 
joined. 

"But  suppose  somebody  had  camped  in  the  trees? 
Why  shouldn't  the  fellow  see  our  fire?"  Jimmy  in- 
quired. 

"Perhaps  Bob  will  enlighten  you,"  said  Stannard 
coolly. 

"Ah,"  said  Deering,  "he  didn't  mean  to  leave  the 
sheep  around,  -and  although  I  didn't  get  his  object  for 
pushing  the  body  off  the  rocks,  I  reckon  it  went  down 
a  thousand  feet  into  the  timber — "  He  stopped  and 
looking  hard  at  Bob  resumed:  "What  was  your  ob- 
ject?" 


106  NORTHWEST! 

Bob's  dark  face  was  inscrutable. 

"I  saw  smoke.  When  we  got  busy,  I  calculated  the 
game-warden  had  located  at  the  other  end  of  the 
range." 

"You  greedy  swine!"  said  Stannard,  and  Deering 
began  to  laugh. 

"Jimmy  doesn't  get  it!  Well,  Bob  meant  to  earn 
his  bonus,  and  since  he  took  us  shooting  on  a  govern- 
ment game  reserve,  I  admit  his  nerve  is  pretty  good. 
Anyhow,  I  won't  grumble  because  I  haven't  killed  a 
big-horn.  Stannard's  may  cost  him  two  or  three  hun- 
dred dollars." 

"Why  did  you  play  us  this  shabby  trick,  Bob?" 
Jimmy  asked  in  a  stern  voice. 

Bob  gave  him  a  rather  strange  look. 

"I  sure  wanted  the  bonus  and  the  reserve  is  new. 
I  allowed  I'd  beat  the  warden  and  you  wouldn't  know. 
He  got  after  me  another  time  and  I  had  to  quit  and 
leave  a  pile  of  skins." 

"You  wanted  to  get  even?"  Deering  remarked  and 
turned  to  Stannard.  "What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?  In  a  way,  the  thing's  a  joke,  but  our  duty's  ob- 
vious. We  ought  to  give  up  the  heads  and  take  Bob 
along  to  the  police." 

Stannard  said  nothing,  but  Jimmy  imagined  he  did 
not  mean  to  give  up  the  heads.  Bob's  calm  was  not 
at  all  disturbed. 

"Shucks !"  he  said.  "You're  pretty  big,  Mr.  Deer- 
ing, but  I  reckon  the  city  man  who  could  take  me 
where  I  didn't  want  to  go  isn't  born.  Why,  you  can't 


THE  GAME  RESERVE  107 

get  off  the  mountains  unless  I  help  you  fix  camp  and 
pack  your  truck!" 

"I  don't  like  packing  a  heavy  load,"  Deering  ad- 
mitted. "We'll  talk  about  it  again,  and  in  the  mean- 
time you  had  better  take  the  frying-pan  from  the  fire. 
I  hate  my  bannocks  burned." 


xir 

STANNARD  FRONTS  A  CRISIS 

A  T  Kelshope  ranch  fodder  was  scarce  and  so  long 
•**•  as  the  underbrush  was  green  Jardine  let  his  cattle 
roam  about.  The  plan  had  some  drawbacks,  and  Jar- 
dine,  needing  his  plow  oxen  one  afternoon,  was  forced 
to  search  the  tangled  woods.  Sometimes  he  heard 
cowbells,  but  when  he  reached  the  spot  the  animals 
were  gone.  A  plow  ox  is  cunning  and  in  thick  timber 
moves  much  faster  than  a  man. 

Jardine,  however,  was  obstinate  and  for  an  hour  or 
two  he  pushed  across  soft  muskegs  and  through  tan- 
gled brushwood.  When  at  length  he  stopped  he  saw 
he  had  torn  his  new  overalls  and  broken  an  old  long 
boot.  Besides,  he  hated  to  be  baffled  and  since  he 
could  not  catch  the  oxen  he  could  not  move  some  logs. 

When  he  got  near  the  ranch  he  stopped.  Somebody 
was  quietly  moving  about  the  house,  as  if  he  wanted 
to  find  out  who  was  at  home,  and  Jardine,  advancing 
noiselessly,  saw  it  was  Bob.  He  admitted  he  had  ex- 
pected something  like  that,  for  Bob's  habits  were  not 
altogether  a  white  man's.  Jardine  imagined  he  did 
not  know  Margaret  had  gone  to  the  railroad. 

Had  he  found  his  team,  he  might  have  given  Bob 
supper  and  sent  him  off  before  Margaret  arrived,  but 
he  had  not  found  the  team  and  Bob's  creeping  about 

108 


STANNARD  FRONTS  A  CRISIS      109 

the  house  annoyed  him.  In  the  Old  Country  Jardine 
was  a  poacher,  but  he  sprang  from  good  Scottish  stock 
and  he  hated  to  think  Bob  bothered  Margaret.  Moving 
out  of  the  shadow,  he  went  up  the  path. 

He  did  not  make  a  noise,  but  Bob  turned,  and  Jar- 
dine  thought  had  the  fellow  been  altogether  a  white 
man  he  would  have  started.  Bob  did  not  start.  His 
look  was  calm,  like  an  Indian's,  and  his  pose  was  quiet. 

"Hello!"  he  said.  "I  reckoned  you'd  gone  after 
your  plow  team." 

"Ye  didna  reckon  I'd  come  back  just  yet !" 

Bob  smiled,  but  his  eyes  got  narrower  and  his  mouth 
went  straight.  He  was  a  big  man  and  carried  himself 
like  an  athlete. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  allowed  Miss  Margaret  was 
around  and  I'd  wait  a  while." 

Jardine  wondered  whether  Bob  meant  to  annoy  him. 
As  a  rule  the  fellow  was  not  frank  and  now  his  frank- 
ness was  insolent. 

"If  ye  come  another  time,  ye'll  come  when  I'm  aboot. 
What  have  ye  in  yon  pack  ?" 

"Berries,"  said  Bob,  opening  a  cotton  flour  bag. 
"I  reckoned  Miss  Margaret  wanted  some.  Then  I 
brought  a  pelt;  looked  the  sort  of  thing  to  go  round 
her  winter  cap." 

In  the  woods,  the  Indians  dry  the  large  yellow  rasp- 
berries and  Bob  had  brought  a  quantity  to  the  ranch 
before.  Now  he  pulled  out  a  small  dark  skin  that 
Jardine  imagined  was  worth  fifty  dollars.  The  value 
of  the  present  was  significant 


110  NORTHWEST! 

"Ye  can  tak'  them  back.  We  have  a'  the  berries 
we  want." 

"Anyhow,  I  guess  Miss  Margaret  would  like  the 
skin." 

"She  would  not.  Margaret  has  nae  use  for  ony 
pelts  ye  bring." 

For  a  few  moments  Bob  was  quiet.  Then  he  said, 
"Sometimes  I  blew  in  for  supper  and  you  let  me  stay 
and  smoke.  When  you  put  up  the  barn,  you  sent  for 
me  to  help  you  raise  the  logs.  The  English  tenderfoot 
hadn't  located  in  the  valley  then." 

The  blood  came  to  Jardine's  skin.  To  some  extent 
Bob's  rejoinder  was  justified;  but  Jardine  had  not  un- 
til recently  imagined  Margaret  accounted  for  the  fel- 
low's coming  to  the  ranch. 

"When  we  put  up  the  barn  ye  got  stan'ard  pay.  I 
allow  ye' re  a  useful  man  to  handle  logs,  but  I'm  no' 
hiring  help  the  noo." 

"You  reckoned  me  your  hired  man?"  said  Bob  in 
an  ominously  quiet  voice.  "That  was  all  the  use  you 
had  for  me?" 

"Just  that!"  Jardine  agreed.  "Margaret  has  nae 
use  for  ye  ava'." 

"Then,  if  you  reckon  you're  going  to  get  my  high- 
brow English  boss  for  her,  you're  surely  not  very 
bright.  His  sort  don't  marry — " 

"Tak*  your  pack  and  quit,"  said  Jardine  sternly. 
"Get  off  the  ranch,  ye  blasted  half-breed !" 

Bob  was  very  quiet,  but  his  pose  was  alert  and 
somehow  like  a  hunting  animal's.  Perhaps  instinc- 


lively,  he  felt  for  his  knife.  Jardine's  ax  leaned 
against  a  neighboring  post.  If  he  jumped,  he  could 
reach  the  tool,  but  he  did  not  move.  For  a  moment 
or  two  they  waited,  and  then  Bob  picked  up  the  flour 
bag  and  went  down  the  path.  Jardine  went  to  the 
kitchen  and  lighted  his  pipe.  Bob  was  gone,  and  Jar- 
dine  hardly  thought  he  would  come  back,  but  he  was 
not  altogether  satisfied  he  had  taken  the  proper  line. 
Indian  blood  ran  in  Bob's  veins ;  an  Indian  waits  long 
and  does  not  forget.  For  all  that,  Jardine  did  not 
see  himself  warning  Ley  land  and  enlightening  Mar- 
garet. 

A  week  afterwards,  Stannard  one  evening  occupied 
a  chair  at  his  table  on  the  terrace.  He  had  returned 
from  the  mountains  with  two  good  big-horn  heads 
and  nothing  indicated  that  the  game-warden  knew  the 
party  had  poached  on  the  reserve.  Stannard,  however, 
was  not  thinking  about  the  hunting  excursion.  The 
English  mail  had  arrived  and  sometimes  he  studied 
a  letter  and  sometimes  looked  moodily  about. 

Laura,  Dillon,  and  two  or  three  young  men  were 
on  the  steps  that  went  down  to  the  woods.  Laura  wore 
her  black  dinner  dress  and  Stannard  thought  she  had 
not  another  that  so  harmonized  with  her  beauty.  Dil- 
lon obviously  felt  her  charm.  He  was  next  to  Laura, 
and  since  it  looked  as  if  the  others  were  ready  to  dis- 
pute his  claim  to  the  spot,  Stannard  imagined  Frank 
would  not  have  occupied  it  unless  Laura  meant  him  to 
remain. 

After  a  time  Stannard  pushed  the  letter  into  his 


112  NORTHWEST! 

pocket  and  gave  himself  to  gloomy  thought,  until 
Deering  came  along  the  terrace  and  asked  him  for  a 
match. 

"You  look  as  if  you  were  bothered,"  Deering  re- 
marked. 

"Sometimes  one  is  bothered  when  one's  mail  ar- 
rives." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Deering,  with  a  sympathetic  nod. 
"Opening  your  mail  is  like  dipping  in  a  lucky  bag; 
your  luck's  not  always  good.  I  got  some  bills  in  my 
lot." 

"I  got  a  demand  for  a  sum  I  cannot  pay.  I  expect 
you  haven't  two  thousand  dollars  you  don't  particularly 
need?" 

Deering  laughed.  "Search  me!  All  I've  got  above 
five  hundred  dollars  you  can  have  for  keeps.  Looks 
as  if  you  must  put  the  fellow  off." 

"He's  obstinate  and  unless  I  can  satisfy  him  it  might 
be  awkward  for  me." 

"Then,  you  had  better  try  Dillon.  The  kid's  rich 
and  sometimes  generous,"  Deering  remarked.  "In  a 
sense,  he's  mine,  but  since  you're  up  against  it,  I'll  lend 
him  to  you." 

He  went  off  and  Stannard  frowned.  For  him  to  be 
fastidious  was  ridiculous,  but  Deering's  frankness 
jarred.  Still  he  needed  a  large  sum,  and  although  he 
could  borrow  for  Jimmy,  he  could  not  borrow  for  him- 
self ;  the  fellow  who  supplied  him  was  a  keen  business 
man.  Stannard  lived  extravagantly,  but  the  money  he 
used  was  not  his,  and  unless  he  justified  the  speculation 


STANNARD  FRONTS  A  CRISIS      113 

supplies  would  stop.  So  far,  the  speculation  had  paid 
and  he  owned  he  ought  not  to  be  embarrassed.  The 
trouble  was,  he  squandered  all  he  got. 

He  weighed  Deering's  plan.  Dillon's  father  was 
rich  and  indulged  the  lad.  Stannard  had  stopped  at 
his  ambitious  house  on  Puget  Sound,  and  imagined  the 
old  lumber  man  approved  Laura.  In  fact,  the  draw- 
back to  Deering's  plan  was  there.  Stannard  had  not 
bothered  much  about  Laura  and  was  willing  for  his 
wife's  relations  to  undertake  his  duty,  but  he  did 
not  mean  to  put  an  obstacle  in  her  way.  She  must 
make  a  good  marriage ;  after  all,  her  aunts  were  poor. 

By  and  by  the  group  on  the  steps  broke  up  and  Laura 
came  to  Stannard's  table.  He  noted  that  her  eyes 
sparkled  and  her  color  was  rather  high.  It  looked  as 
if  she  had  triumphed  over  another  girl;  Stannard  ad- 
mitted the  others  were  attractive,  but  none  had  Laura's 
charm. 

"You  have  soon  forgotten  Jimmy,"  he  remarked. 

"No,"  said  Laura,  "I  have  not  forgotten  Jimmy. 
Although  I  did  not  want  him  for  a  lover,  he's  my 
friend.  But  he  really  was  not  my  lover.  That  ac- 
counts for  much." 

"Yet  I  imagine,  if  he  had  been  persuaded  to  go  back 
to  the  cotton  mill — " 

Laura  blushed,  but  she  gave  Stannard  a  steady  look. 
"I  liked  Jimmy,  Father,  and  I  was  not  altogether 
selfish.  I  felt  he  ought  to  go  back." 

"To  lead  a  young  i.ian  where  he  ought  to  go  is 
rather  an  attractive  part,"  Stannard  remarked. 


114  NORTHWEST! 

"Jimmy  wanted  to  marry  you.  What  about  Frank 
Dillon?" 

"Ah,"  said  Laura.  "Frank  is  not  as  rash  as  Jimmy ! 
Jimmy  doesn't  ponder.  He  plunges  ahead." 

"You  imply  that  Frank  uses  caution." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Laura,  smiling,  "perhaps  I  use 
some  reserve." 

Stannard  thought  her  voice  was  gentle,  and  turning 
his  head,  he  studied  Dillon.  The  young  fellow  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  steps  as  if  he  wanted  to  follow  Laura, 
but  waited  for  her  to  indicate  that  he  might.  Stan- 
nard reflected  with  dry  amusement  that  Laura  kept  her 
lovers  in  firm  control.  Frank  was  rather  a  handsome 
fellow  and  Stannard  knew  him  sincere  and  generous. 
Perhaps  it  was  strange,  but  a  number  of  the  young 
men  he  admitted  to  his  circle  were  a  pretty  good  type. 
Although  Stannard  was  not  bothered  by  scruples,  he 
was  fastidious. 

"But  I  want  to  know —  It's  important,"  he  said. 
"Suppose  Frank  is  as  rash  as  Jimmy?  Will  you  re- 
fuse him?" 

Laura  blushed,  but  after  a  moment  or  two  she  looked 
up  and  fronted  her  father. 

"Why  is  it  important  for  you  to  know?" 

Stannard  hesitated.  He  had  not  used  his  daughter 
for  an  innocent  accomplice,  and  had  she  married 
Jimmy  he  would  have  tried  to  free  the  lad  from  his  en- 
tanglements. Now,  if  she  loved  Frank,  he  must  not 
embarrass  her. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  rather  think  I  must  give  you  my 


STANNARD  FRONTS  A  CRISIS      115 

confidence.  I  need  money  and  it's  possible  Frank 
would  help." 

"Oh,  Father,  you  mustn't  use  Frank's  money!" 
Laura  exclaimed  and,  since  her  disturbance  was  obvi- 
ous, Stannard's  curiosity  was  satisfied.  "He's  your 
friend  and  trusts  you,"  she  resumed.  "I  think  you 
ought  to  force  Deering  to  leave  him  alone." 

For  a  few  moments  Stannard  was  quiet.  Laura 
loved  Frank;  at  all  events  she  was  willing  to  marry 
him,  and  it  looked  as  if  she  knew  more  about  her  father 
than  he  had  thought.  Well,  Laura  was  not  a  fool. 

"Sometimes  your  tact  is  rather  marked,"  he  said.  "I 
wonder  whether  you  really  think  Deering  a  worse 
friend  for  Frank  than  me?  However,  we'll  let  it  go. 
If  you  marry  the  young  fellow,  he,  of  course,  ought 
not  to  be  my  creditor." 

Laura  gave  him  a  grateful  look  and  when  she  re- 
plied her  voice  was  apologetic.  "Perhaps  I  wasn't 
justified,  but  I  felt  I  was  forced —  I  mean,  I  didn't 
want  you  to  bother  Frank,  and  one  cannot  trust  Deer- 
ing." 

"I  imagine  I  see,"  Stannard  rejoined.  "Well,  per- 
haps Deering's  a  better  sort  than  you  think.  He  stated, 
rather  generously,  that  he  would  lend  me  Frank,  but 
if  it's  some  comfort,  I'll  engage  not  to  bother  the  young 
fellow." 

"You're  a  dear !"  said  Laura  with  a  touch  of  emo- 
tion. 

Stannard  shrugged.  "I  have  not  carried  out  my 
duty  and  you  do  not  owe  me  much,  but  after  all  it  was 


116  NORTHWEST! 

for  your  sake  I  sent  you  to  your  aunts.  Since  your 
father  was  a  bad  model,  I  hoped  your  mother's  sisters 
would  help  you  to  grow  up  like  her.  Well,  since  I 
long  neglected  you,  I  must  not  now  put  an  obstacle  in 
your  way." 

"You  are  kind,"  said  Laura.  "Perhaps  I'm  cold  and 
calculating.  I  know  my  shabbiness,  but  I  did  not  love 
Jimmy  and  I  think  I  do  love  Frank." 

She  touched  Stannard's  arm  gently  and  went  into 
the  hotel.  A  few  moments  afterwards,  Dillon  crossed 
the  terrace  and  went  up  the  steps.  Stannard  smiled, 
but  by  and  by  threw  away  his  cigar  and  knitted  his 
brows.  He  thought  he  need  not  bother  about  Laura, 
but  he  saw  no  plan  for  meeting  his  importunate  cred- 
itor's demands. 


XIII 

THE  DESERTED    HOMESTEAD 

STANNARD  and  a  party  from  the  hotel  were  in 
the  mountains,  and  Laura  and  Mrs.  Dillon  one 
morning  occupied  a  bench  on  the  terrace.  Mrs.  Dillon 
had  arrived  a  few  days  since,  and  when  Stannard  re- 
turned Laura  was  going  back  with  her  to  Puget  Sound. 
Dillon,  sitting  on  the  steps,  tranquilly  smoked  a  ciga- 
rette. Laura  had  engaged  to  marry  him  and  he  had  re- 
fused to  join  Stannard's  rather  ambitious  excursion  to 
a  snow  peak  that  had  recently  interested  the  Canadian 
Alpine  Club.  So  far  as  Dillon  knew,  nobody  had  yet 
got  up  the  mountain,  and  if  its  exploration  occupied 
Stannard  and  Jimmy  for  some  time,  he  would  be  re- 
signed. Jimmy  was  his  friend,  but  on  the  whole  Frank 
would  sooner  he  was  not  about. 

"Two  strangers  went  into  the  clerk's  office  some  time 
since,"  Laura  said  presently.  "One  wore  a  sort  of 
cavalry  uniform.  Do  you  know  who  they  are?" 

"One's  a  subaltern  officer  of  the  Royal  North- West 
Mounted  Police,"  Dillon  replied.  "I  expect  the  other's 
a  small  boss  in  the  Canada  forestry  department,  or 
something  like  that.  Perhaps  a  careless  tourist  has 
started  a  bush  fire." 

"They  are  coming  out,"  said  Laura,  and  added  with 

surprise :  "I  think  they  want  to  see  us." 

117 


118  NORTHWEST! 

The  men  crossed  the  terrace  and  the  young  officer 
gave  Laura  an  envelope. 

"I  understand  you  are  Miss  Stannard  and  this  is 
your  father's." 

Laura  nodded  agreement  and  studied  the  envelope. 
The  address  was  Stannard's  and  at  the  top  was  printed, 
Sports  service.  Taxidermy. 

"Perhaps  you  had  better  open  the  envelope,"  the 
officer  resumed. 

Laura  did  so  and  pulled  out  a  bill.  "To  preserving 
and  mounting  two  big-horn  heads —  To  packing  for 
shipment — " 

The  other  man  took  the  bill.  He  was  a  big  brown- 
skinned  fellow  and  his  steady  quiet  glance  indicated 
that  he  knew  the  woods. 

"Sure !"  he  said.  "The  charge  for  packing  is  pretty 
steep;  but  when  you  mean  to  beat  the  export-prohibi- 
tion—  Well,  I  guess  this  fixes  it !" 

"What  has  Mr.  Stannard's  bill  to  do  with  you?" 
Laura  asked  in  a  haughty  voice. 

"To  begin  with,  he  can't  ship  those  heads  out  of 
Canada.  Then  it  looks  as  if  he  killed  the  big-horn  on 
a  government  game  reserve." 

"Your  statement's  ridiculous,"  said  Laura  angrily. 
"My  father  is  an  English  sportsman,  not  a  poacher." 

"Anyhow,  he  killed  two  mountain  sheep  not  long 
since." 

"You  cannot  force  Miss  Stannard  to  admit  it,"  Dil- 
lon interrupted. 

"Not  at  'all,"   the   young   officer   agreed   politely. 


THE  DESERTED  HOMESTEAD      119 

"Still  I  think  some  frankness  might  pay.  My  com- 
panion is  warden  Douglas,  from  the  reserve,  and  the 
game  laws  are  strict,  but  it's  possible  some  allowance 
would  be  made  for  tourists  who  did  not  know  the  rules. 
If  Miss  Stannard  does  reply,  it  might  help." 

"Very  well,"  said  Laura.  "My  father  and  a  party 
went  shooting  and  he  brought  back  two  big-horn  heads, 
but  I'm  satisfied  he  did  not  know  he  trespassed  on  a 
game  reserve." 

"His  partners  were  Leyland  and  Deering,"  warden 
Douglas  remarked.  "I  expect  they  took  a  guide,  al- 
though they  didn't  hire  up  the  men  at  the  hotel." 

"Mr.  Leyland's  man,  Okanagan,  went." 

Douglas  looked  at  the  officer  and  smiled  meaningly. 
"Now  I  get  it !  I  reckon  Bob  played  them  fellers." 

"Mr.  Stannard  is  again  in  the  mountains?"  the  offi- 
cer said  to  Laura.  "I  don't  urge  you  to  reply,  but  al- 
though my  duty's  to  find  out  all  I  can,  I  don't  think 
your  frankness  will  hurt  your  father." 

Laura  said  Stannard  had  gone  to  climb  a  famous 
peak  and  admitted  that  he  had  taken  Okanagan. 

"They'll  hit  the  range  near  the  head  of  the  reserve 
and  a  hefty  gang  could  get  down  the  Wolf  Creek 
gulch,"  Douglas  observed.  "Looks  as  if  Bob  had  gone 
back  for  another  lot !  I  guess  an  English  sport  would 
put  up  fifty  dollars  for  a  good  head." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Stannard,"  said  the  officer.  "The 
department  will  claim  the  heads  and  perhaps  demand 
a  fine,  but  the  sum  will  depend  upon  Mr.  Stannard's 
statements.  This,  however,  is  not  my  business." 


120  NORTHWEST! 

He  bowed  and  went  off,  but  he  stopped  Douglas  on 
the  veranda. 

"If  you  want  to  go  after  the  party,  I'll  give  you 
trooper  Simpson." 

"I'm  going  after  Okanagan  and  I  mean  to  get  him," 
said  Douglas  grimly.  "I  reckon  he  fooled  the  tourists, 
but  they've  got  to  pay  the  fine.  Can't  you  give  me  a 
bushman  trooper?  Okanagan's  a  tough  proposition 
and  he  doesn't  like  me." 

The  officer  said  he  had  not  another  man  and  must 
go  off  to  make  inquiries  about  a  forest  fire.  He  sent 
for  his  horse  and  the  group  on  the  terrace  saw  him  ride 
down  the  trail. 

"I'm  sorry  for  Father  and  know  he'll  hate  to  give 
up  the  heads;  but  I  think  the  men  were  satisfied  Jim- 
my's helper  cheated  him,"  Laura  remarked. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Stannard's  party  stopped 
one  evening  at  a  small,  empty  homestead.  Thin  forest 
surrounded  the  clearing,  but  on  one  side  the  trees  were 
burned  and  the  bare  rampikes  shone  in  the  sun.  In 
places  the  crooked  fence  had  fallen  down,  tall  fern 
grew  among  the  stumps,  and  willows  had  run  across 
the  cultivated  ground.  For  all  that,  the  loghouse  was 
good,  and  since  the  horses  could  not  go  much  farther, 
Stannard  resolved  to  use  the  ranch  for  a  supply  depot. 
On  the  rocks  the  climbing  party  could  not  carry  heavy 
loads. 

When  the  sun  got  low  they  sat  on  the  veranda  and 
smoked.  They  did  not  talk  much,  and  Jimmy  felt  the 
brooding  calm  was  melancholy.  Somebody,  perhaps 


THE  DESERTED  HOMESTEAD      121 

with  high  hope,  had  cleared  the  ground  the  forest  now 
was  taking  back.  Labor  and  patience  had  gone  for 
nothing;  the  grass  was  already  smothered  by  young 
trees.  It  looked  as  if  the  wilderness  triumphed  over 
human  effort. 

"How  long  do  you  think  its  owner  was  chopping 
put  the  ranch?  And  why  did  he  let  it  go?"  Jimmy 
asked. 

"I  reckon  nine  or  ten  years,"  Deering  replied. 
"Maybe  he  speculated  on  somebody's  starting  a  saw- 
mill or  a  mine.  Maybe  the  block  carried  a  mortgage 
and  he  pulled  out  to  earn  the  interest.  As  a  rule,  the 
small  homesteader  takes  any  job  he  can  get,  and  when 
his  wallet's  full  comes  back  to  chop,  but  a  railroad 
construction  gang's  the  usual  stunt  and  some  don't 
come  back.  I  expect  the  fellow  was  blown  up  by  dyna- 
mite or  a  rock  fell  on  him.  Anyhow,  when  you  hit  a 
deserted  ranch,  the  owner's  story  is  something  like 
that.  Canada's  not  the  get-rich  country  land  boomers 
state."' 

Then  Deering  turned  to  Stannard.  "Did  you  find  a 
good  line  to  the  ridge  from  which  we  reckon  to  make 
the  peak?" 

"I  found  a  line  I  think  will  go.  You  follow  the 
ridge  until  a  big  buttress  breaks  the  top  some  distance 
above  the  snow  level.  A  col  goes  down  to  a  glacier 
and  one  might  get  across  to  another  ridge  that  would 
help  us  up  the  peak.  Still  I  doubt  if  our  map's  ac- 
curate, and  my  notion  is  to  climb  the  buttress." 

Deering  took  the  map.     "Good  maps  of  the  back 


122  NORTHWEST! 

country  are  not  numerous,  but  if  the  col's  where  you 
locate  it,  I  reckon  the  old-time  miners  shoved  up  the 
glacier  when  they  came  in  from  the  plains.  Some 
made  the  Caribou  diggings  from  Alberta  long  before 
the  railroad  was  built." 

"Their  road  was  rough,"  said  Stannard  and  lighted 
his  pipe. 

He  was  not  keen  to  talk.  For  one  thing,  he  was 
tired,  and  he  did  not  yet  know  where  to  get  the  sum 
he  needed.  The  sum,  however,  must  be  got.  So  long 
as  he  belonged  to  one  or  two  good  clubs  and  visited 
at  fashionable  country  houses,  the  allowance  on  which 
he  lived  would  be  paid;  but  if  he  did  not  satisfy  his 
creditor  he  must  give  up  his  clubs  and  would  not  be 
wanted  at  shooting  parties. 

By  and  by  Deering  turned  to  Bob,  who  was  clean- 
ing a  rifle. 

"We  have  guns.    Have  you  got  a  pit-light?" 

Bob  grinned.  "You  can't  use  a  pit-light.  Some 
cranks  at  Ottawa  allow  they're  going  to  carry  out  the 
law." 

"It  depends,"  said  Deering  dryly.  "I  wouldn't  go 
still-hunting  if  I  thought  a  game-warden  was  about, 
but  we  oughtn't  to  run  up  against  a  warden  in  this 
neighborhood.  Anyhow,  I  see  the  deer  come  down  to 
feed  on  the  fresh  brush,  and  some  venison  would  help 
out  our  salt  pork.  Say,  have  you  got  a  light?" 

"I've  got  one,"  Bob  admitted.  "We  brought  some 
candles,  and  I  guess  I  could  cut  two  or  three  shields 
from  a  meat  can." 


THE  DESERTED  HOMESTEAD      123 

"Then  you  can  get  to  work,"  said  Deering,  and 
turned  to  the  others.  "The  sport's  pretty  good.  You 
hook  a  small  miner's  lamp  in  your  hat  and  pull  out 
the  brim,  but  you  can  use  a  candle  and  a  bit  of  tin. 
Since  the  lamp's  above  the  tin  shield,  the  deer  can't 
see  you.  They  see  a  light  some  distance  from  the 
ground  and,  if  you're  quiet,  they  come  up  to  find  out 
what  it's  doing  there.  When  their  eyes  reflect  the 
beam,  you  shoot." 

"I  don't  suppose  we'd  run  much  risk,  but  a  still- 
hunt  is  poaching  and  I  doubt  if  it's  worth  the  bother," 
Stannard  replied  carelessly. 

"When  you  start  poaching,  you  don't  know  where 
to  stop.  Not  long  since  we  shot  two  big-horn  on  a 
game  reserve,"  said  Deering  with  a  laugh.  "The 
strange  thing  is,  although  I  quit  ranching  for  the  cities, 
I  want  to  get  back  and  play  in  the  woods.  Give  me  an 
ax  and  a  gun  and  I'm  a  boy  again.  Say,  let's  try  the 
still-hunt!" 

The  others  agreed  and  after  supper  the  party  waited 
for  dark.  The  green  sky  faded  and  the  trees  were 
very  black.  Then  their  saw-edged  tops  got  indistinct 
and  gray  mist  floated  about  the  clearing  in  belts  that 
sometimes  melted  and  sometimes  got  thick.  The 
resinous  smell  of  the  pines  was  keen  and  all  was  very 
quiet  but  for  the  turmoil  of  the  river.  An  owl  swooped 
by  the  house,  shrieked  mournfully,  and  vanished  in 
the  gloom. 

At  length  Jimmy  fixed  his  candle  in  a  rude  tin  shield, 
felt  that  his  rifle  magazine  was  full,  and  waited  for 


124  NORTHWEST! 

Bob  to  take  the  others  to  their  posts.  So  long  as  they 
went  away  from  him,  all  he  saw  was  a  faint  glimmer, 
but  sometimes  one  turned  at  an  obstacle  and  a  small 
bright  flame  shone  in  the  mist.  It  looked  as  if  the  light 
floated  without  support  and  Jimmy  could  picture  its 
exciting  the  deer's  curiosity.  One  could  not  use  a  pit- 
lamp  in  the  tangled  bush,  but  the  clearing  was  some 
distance  across  and  the  deer  came  to  feed  on  the  tender 
undergrowth  that  had  sprung  up  since  the  trees  were 
chopped. 

After  a  time  Bob  returned,  but  now  Jimmy  must  go 
to  his  post  he  admitted  he  would  sooner  go  to  bed.  He 
was  tired  and  still-hunting  with  a  light  was  forbidden  ; 
besides,  they  had  not  long  since  poached  on  a  game  re- 
serve. Had  not  Deering  bothered  them,  Jimmy 
thought  Stannard  would  not  have  gone,  but  in  the 
woods  Deering's  mood  was  a  boy's.  The  packers  and 
the  horses  were  in  a  barn  some  distance  back  among 
the  trees,  and  they  had  not  got  a  light  at  the  house. 
Somehow  the  quiet  and  gloom  were  daunting,  but  to 
hesitate  was  ridiculous  and  Jimmy  went  off  with  Bob. 

In  North  America,  trees  are  not  cut  off  at  the  ground 
level  and  the  clearing  was  dotted  by  tall  stumps.  Fern 
grew  about  the  roots,  and  tangled  vines  and  young 
willows  occupied  the  open  spaces.  At  a  boggy  patch 
the  grass  was  high,  and  a  ditch  went  up  the  middle  and 
into  the  bush.  The  ditch  was  deep  and  Jimmy  knew 
something  about  the  labor  it  had  cost.  To  see  useful 
effort  thrown  away  disturbed  him  and  he  speculated 
about  the  lonely  rancher's  stubborn  fight.  The  man 


THE  DESERTED  HOMESTEAD      125 

was  gone;  perhaps  he  knew  himself  beaten  before  he 
went,  and  the  forest  reclaimed  the  clearing. 

They  crossed  the  ditch  and  Bob  stationed  Jimmy  be- 
hind a  big  stump  at  the  edge  of  the  trees.  He  said 
quietness  was  important,  and  if  Jimmy  left  his  post  and 
did  not  take  his  light,  he  might  get  shot.  Moreover, 
he  must  not  shoot  unless  he  saw  a  deer's  eyes  shine ;  he 
must  wait  until  he  thought  the  animal  near  enough 
and  then  aim  between  the  two  bright  spots.  He  might 
soon  get  a  shot,  but  he  might  wait  until  daybreak  and 
see  nothing. 

Then  Bob  went  off  and  Jimmy  was  sorry  he  could 
not  light  his  pipe.  The  night  was  cold  and  waiting 
behind  the  stump  soon  got  dreary.  Sometimes  the 
mist  was  thick  and  sometimes  it  melted,  but  one  could 
not  see  across  the  clearing  and  nothing  indicated  that 
the  others  were  about.  Jimmy  did  not  know  their 
posts;  he  imagined  Bob  had  put  them  where  they 
would  not  see  each  other's  lights.  He  wondered 
whether  the  deer  would  soon  arrive.  If  he  did  not  see 
one  before  his  candle  burned  out,  he  would  lie  down 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stump  and  go  to  sleep. 


XIV 

A   SHOT   IN   THE   DARK 

JIMMY  imagined  he  did  for  a  few  minutes  go  to 
sleep,  because  he  did  not  know  when  the  noise  be- 
gan. Branches  cracked  as  if  a  deer  pushed  through 
the  brush  a  short  distance  off.  Jimmy  was  not  ex- 
cited ;  in  fact,  he  was  cold  and  dull,  and  he  used  some 
effort  to  wake  up. 

The  noise  stopped  and  then  began  again.  It  now 
looked  as  if  a  large  animal  plunged  across  the  clear- 
ing. Jimmy  did  not  think  a  deer  went  through  the 
brush  like  that,  but  for  a  moment  he  saw  a  luminous 
spot  in  the  dark.  Something  reflected  the  beam  from 
his  candle  and  he  threw  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

His  hand  shook  and  he  tried  to  steady  the  barrel. 
He  felt  a  jerk  and  was  dully  conscious  of  the  report. 
As  a  rule,  when  one  concentrates  on  a  moving  target 
one  does  not  hear  the  gun;  the  strange  thing  was 
Jimmy  imagined  he  heard  his  a  second  before  the  trig- 
ger yielded. 

The  deer  did  not  stop  and  he  pumped  in  another 
cartridge.  He  heard  nothing,  but  red  sparks  leaped 
from  the  rifle  and  then  all  was  dark.  A  heavy  object 
rolled  in  the  young  willows  and  somebody  shouted. 
Lights  tossed  and  it  looked  as  if  people  ran  about. 

Jimmy  shouted  to  warn  the  others  and   left  the 

126 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK  127 

stump.  When  he  jumped  across  the  ditch  his  candle 
went  out,  and  on  the  other  side  his  foot  struck  some- 
thing soft.  Stooping  down,  he  felt  about  and  then 
got  up  and  gasped.  His  heart  beat,  for  he  knew  the 
object  he  had  touched  was  not  a  deer. 

After  a  moment  or  two  Stannard  joined  him  and 
took  a  miner's  lamp  from  his  hat.  Jimmy  shivered, 
for  the  light  touched  a  man  who  lay  in  the  willows. 
His  arms  were  thrown  out,  and  as  much  of  his  face 
as  Jimmy  saw  was  very  white.  The  other  side  was 
buried  in  the  wet  grass. 

"Is  he  dead?"  Jimmy  gasped. 

"Not  yet,  I  think,"  said  Stannard,  and  Deering, 
running  up,  pushed  him  back  and  got  on  his  knees. 

Using  some  effort,  he  lifted  the  man's  head  and 
partly  turned  him  over.  The  others  saw  a  few  drops 
of  blood  about  a  very  small  hole  in  the  breast  of  his 
deerskin  jacket. 

"A  blamed  awkward  spot!"  Deering  remarked  and 
gave  Jimmy  a  sympathetic  glance.  "Your  luck's 
surely  bad,  but  get  hold.  We  must  carry  him  to  the 
house." 

Stannard  got  down;  he  was  cooler  than  Jimmy, 
but  they  heard  an  angry  shout,  and  Deering  jumped 
for  the  lamp.  When  he  ran  forward  the  others  saw 
a  young  police-trooper  crawl  from  the  ditch.  Stop- 
ping on  the  bank,  he  looked  down  into  the  mud,  and 
Bob,  a  few  yards  off,  studied  him  with  a  grim  smile. 
Jimmy  remarked  that  Okanagan  had  not  a  rifle. 

"If  you  try  to  get  your  blasted  gun,  I'll  sock  my 


128  NORTHWEST! 

knife  to  you,"  said  Bob.  "Shove  on  in  front  and  stop 
where  the  light  is." 

The  trooper  advanced  awkwardly.  His  Stetson 
hat  was  gone  and  his  head  was  cut.  When  he  saw  the 
man  on  the  ground  he  stopped. 

"You've  killed  him,"  he  said.  "Put  up  your  hands! 
You're  my  prisoners !" 

Bob  laughed. 

"Cut  it  out!  That  talk  may  go  at  Regina;  we've 
no  use  for  it  in  the  bush." 

"An  order  from  the  Royal  North- West  goes  every- 
where. Quit  fooling  with  that  knife.  My  duty  is — " 

"Oh,  shucks!"  said  Bob,  and  turned  to  the  others. 
"The  kid  fell  on  his  head  and  is  rattled  bad." 

"He's  hurt;  give  him  a  drink,  Stannard,"  said  Deer- 
ing.  "We  must  help  the  other  fellow.  Lift  his  feet; 
I'll  watch  out  for  his  head.  Get  hold,  Bob." 

They  carried  the  man  to  the  house.  When  they  put 
him  down  he  did  not  move,  but  Jimmy  thought  he 
breathed.  Deering  pushed  a  folded  coat  under  his 
neck  and  held  Stannard's  flask  to  his  mouth.  His  lips 
were  tight  and  the  liquor  ran  down  his  skin. 

"A  bad  job!"  said  Deering,  who  opened  the  man's 
jacket.  "All  the  same,  his  heart  has  not  stopped." 

The  packers  from  the  barn  were  now  pushing  about 
the  door  and  he  beckoned  one. 

"Take  the  best  horse  and  start  for  the  hotel.  Get 
the  clerk  to  wire  for  a  doctor  and  bring  him  along  as 
quick  as  you  can  make  it." 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK  129 

The  packer  went  off  and  Deering  asked  the  police- 
man :  "Who's  your  pal  ?" 

"He's  Douglas,  the  game-warden.  Looks  as  if  you'd 
killed  him." 

"He's  not  dead  yet,"  Deering  rejoined,  and  pulled 
out  some  cigarettes.  "He  may  die.  I  don't  know,  but 
we'll  give  him  all  the  chances  we  can.  In  the  mean- 
time, take  a  smoke  and  tell  us  what  you  were  doing  at 
the  clearing." 

The  trooper  lighted  a  cigarette  and  leaned  against 
the  wall.  Somebody  had  fixed  two  candles  on  the 
logs  and  the  light  touched  the  faces  of  the  group.  All 
were  quiet  but  Deering,  and  Jimmy  noted  with  sur- 
prise that  Stannard  let  him  take  control.  Stannard's 
look  was  very  thoughtful;  Bob's  was  keen  and  grim. 
The  trooper  had  obviously  got  a  nasty  knock. 
At  the  door  the  packers  were  half  seen  in  the  gloom, 
but  Jimmy  felt  the  unconscious  man  on  the  boards,  so 
to  speak,  dominated  the  picture.  Although  Jimmy 
himself  was  highly  strung  he  was  cool. 

"My  officer  sent  me  to  help  the  warden  round  you 
up  for  poaching  on  the  reserve,"  said  the  trooper. 
"When  we  hit  the  clearing  we  saw  you  were  out  with 
the  pit-light  and  Douglas  reckoned  we'd  get  Okanagan 
first ;  the  rest  of  you  were  tourists  and  wouldn't  bother 
us.  Douglas  calculated  Okanagan  knew  the  best  stand 
for  a  shot  and  would  go  right  there.  His  plan  was  to 
steal  up  and  get  him.  I  was  to  watch  out  and  butt 
in  when  I  was  wanted." 


130  NORTHWEST! 

"It  didn't  go  like  that!"  Bob  remarked.  "When 
you  saw  me  by  the  ditch  had  I  a  gun  ?" 

"So  far  as  I  could  see  you  had  not.  You  began  to 
pull  your  knife." 

Stannard  motioned  Bob  to  be  quiet  and  the  other  re- 
sumed :  "I  heard  Douglas  shout  and  I  got  on  a  move. 
In  the  dark,  I  ran  up  against  a  stump,  pitched  over, 
and  went  into  the  ditch.  I  heard  a  shot — " 

"You  heard  one  shot?"  said  Deering. 

"I  don't  know — I'd  hit  my  head  and  was  trying  to 
find  my  rifle.  Well,  I  guess  that's  all !" 

"I  shot  twice,"  said  Jimmy,  in  a  quiet  voice.  "I 
don't  think  Bob  used  a  gun.  All  the  same,  when  I 
pulled  the  trigger  I  imagined  I  heard  another  report; 
but  perhaps  it  was  my  rifle.  I  really  don't  know." 

"The  number  of  shots  is  important,"  Stannard  ob- 
served. 

Deering  looked  up  sharply.  "To  find  out  is  the 
police's  job.  Ours  is  not  to  help." 

"We  ought  to  help,"  Jimmy  rejoined.  "I  thought 
a  deer  was  coming;  I  had  no  object  for  shooting  the 
warden,  but  if  my  bullet  hit  him,  the  police  must  not 
blame  Bob."  He  turned  to  the  others.  "How  many 
shots  did  you  hear?" 

Perhaps  it  was  strange,  but  nobody  knew.  A  packer 
thought  he  heard  three  shots,  although  he  admitted  he 
might  have  been  cheated  because  the  reports  echoed  in 
the  woods.  After  a  few  moments  they  let  it  go  and 
Deering  glanced  at  the  man  on  the  floor. 

"Maybe  he  knows.    I  doubt  if  he  will  tell !" 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK  131 

The  trooper  advanced  awkwardly.  "Give  me  a 
light.  I'm  going  across  the  clearing;  I  want  to  see 
your  stands." 

For  the  most  part,  the  others  went  with  him.  Their 
curiosity  was  keen  and  it  looked  as  if  nobody  reflected 
that  the  lad  was  their  antagonist.  In  fact,  since  they 
carried  in  the  warden,  all  antagonism  had  vanished. 
Jimmy,  however,  remained  behind.  He  was  on  the 
floor  and  did  not  want  to  get  up.  After  the  strain,  he 
was  bothered  by  a  dull  reaction  and  felt  slack.  By 
and  by  Stannard  returned  and  sat  down  on  the  boards. 

"Well?"  said  Jimmy.  "Have  you  found  out 
much?" 

"The  trooper  found  your  two  cartridges  and  the 
posts  Bob  gave  us.  You  were  at  a  big  stump,  Bob  a 
short  distance  on  your  left,  although  he  declares  he 
had  not  a  gun.  My  stand  was  on  your  other  side.  The 
warden's  track  across  the  brush  was  plain.  He  was 
going  nearly  straight  for  the  stump  and  the  bullet 
mark  is  at  the  middle  of  his  chest." 

"It  looks  as  if  I  shot  him,"  Jimmy  said  and  shivered. 

"Then  you  must  brace  up  and  think  about  the  con- 
sequences !" 

"Somehow  I  don't  want  to  bother  about  this  yet. 
Besides,  it's  plain  I  thought  I  aimed  at  a  deer." 

"I  doubt,"  Stannard  remarked,  with  some  dryness. 
"For  one  thing,  the  police  know  we  killed  the  big-horn 
on  the  reserve,  and  since  we  took  Bob  again,  to  state 
he  cheated  us  would  not  help.  The  fellow's  a  notorious 
poacher,  and  when  the  warden  arrived  he  found  us 


132  NORTHWEST! 

using  the  pit-light,  which  the  game  laws  don't  allow. 
On  the  whole,  I  think  the  police  have  grounds  to  claim 
Douglas  was  not  shot  by  accident." 

"But  he  may  get  better." 

"It's  possible;  I  think  that's  all.  But  suppose  he 
does  get  better?  Do  you  imagine  his  narrative  would 
clear  you?" 

Jimmy  pondered.  Until  Stannard  began  to  argue, 
all  he  had  thought  about  was  that  he  had  shot  the 
warden,  but  now  he  weighed  the  consequences.  He 
was  young  and  freedom  was  good.  Moreover,  he  had 
seen  men,  chained  by  the  leg  to  a  heavy  iron  ball,  en- 
gaged making  a  road.  A  warden  with  a  shot-gun  su- 
perintended their  labor,  and  Jimmy  had  thought  the 
indignity  horrible.  He  could  not  see  himself  grading 
roads,  perhaps  for  all  his  life,  with  a  gang  like  that. 

"What  must  I  do  about  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"I'd  put  up  some  food  and  start  for  the  rocks.  Take 
a  rifle  and  the  Indian  packer,  and  try  to  get  down  the 
east  side  of  the  range  by  the  neck  below  the  buttress. 
Then  you  might  perhaps  push  across  to  the  foothills 
and  the  plains.  The  police  will,  no  doubt,  reckon  on 
your  going  west  for  the  Pacific  coast,  and,  if  you  tried, 
would  stop  you.  As  far  as  Revelstoke,  the  railroad 
follows  the  only  break  in  the  mountains,  and  orders 
will  be  telegraphed  to  watch  the  stations.  No ;  I  think 
you  must  steer  for  the  Alberta  plains." 

Jimmy  knitted  his  brows.  If  he  could  reach  the 
coast,  he  might  get  into  the  United  States  or  on  board 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK  133 

a  ship,  but  he  must  cross  British  Columbia  and,  for  the 
most  part,  the  province  was  a  rugged,  mountainous 
wilderness.  The  northern  railroads  were  not  yet  built ; 
the  settlements  were  along  the  C.  P.  R.  track  and  the 
lake  steamboat  routes.  He  dared  not  use  the  rail- 
road ;  but  when  he  thought  about  the  rocks  and  broken 
mountains  he  must  cross  to  reach  the  plains  he  shrank. 

"I  could  not  carry  the  food  I'd  need,"  he  said. 

"You  have  a  rifle,  and  must  take  the  packer.  So 
long  as  deer  and  grouse  are  in  the  woods,  an  Indian 
will  not  starve,"  Stannard  replied  and  gave  Jimmy  his 
wallet.  "Offer  the  fellow  a  large  sum  and  he'll  see 
you  out.  But  you  must  start !" 

"Thank  you;  I'll  risk  it,"  said  Jimmy,  and  giving 
Stannard  his  hand,  went  off. 

Not  long  afterwards  the  others  returned  and  Deer- 
ing  looked  about  the  room. 

"Where's  Jimmy?"  he  asked. 

"He  went  out  a  few  minutes  since,"  Stannard  re- 
plied in  a  careless  voice  and  Deering  turned  to  the 
trooper. 

"Somebody  must  watch  Douglas,  but  you're  knocked 
out  and  Mr.  Stannard  and  I  will  undertake  the  job 
until  sun-up.  It's  obvious  our  interest  is  to  keep  him 
alive." 

The  lad  agreed.  His  head  was  cut  and  he  had  not 
found  his  rifle.  To  imagine  he  could  control  a  party 
of  athletic  men  was  ridiculous,  and  since  they  were 
friendly  he  must  be  resigned. 


134  NORTHWEST! 

Not  long  before  daybreak  Deering  woke  up  and 
looked  about.  Bob's  pit-lamp,  hanging  from  a  beam, 
gave  a  dim  light. 

"Hello!    Jimmy's  not  back!" 

Stannard  looked  at  the  others  and  thought  them 
asleep.  Motioning  to  Deering  to  follow,  he  went  to  the 
door.  He  had  pulled  off  his  boots  and  Deering  trod 
like  a  cat. 

"Jimmy  will  not  come  back.  He  started  for  the 
plains,  across  the  neck." 

"You  sent  the  kid  across  the  hardest  country  in 
Alberta?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  did  send  him;  but  we'll  let  it 
go.  Jimmy's  a  mountaineer  and  he  took  the  Indian." 

"Shucks!"  said  Deering.  "The  Indian's  a  coast 
Siwash  and  not  much  use  on  the  rocks.  Jimmy's  an 
English  tenderfoot  and  has  no  Chinook.  He  can't 
talk  to  the  Indian.  I  doubt  if  he's  got  a  compass  or  a 
map." 

"He  has  my  map  and  I  imagine  an  Indian  does  not 
need  a  compass,"  Stannard  rejoined.  "At  all  events, 
I  didn't  see  another  plan." 

Deering  looked  at  him  hard.  "Well,  perhaps  Jim- 
my's lucky  because  I  was  born  and  raised  in  the  bush. 
Fix  up  a  plausible  tale  for  the  policeman.  When  he 
wakes  I'll  be  hitting  Jimmy's  trail." 

He  turned  and  his  bulky  figure  melted  in  the  dark. 
Stannard  knew  he  was  going  to  the  barn  to  get  food, 
and  for  a  few  moments  knitted  his  brows.  Then  he 
shrugged  philosophically  and  went  back  to  the  house. 


XV 

TROOPER   SIMPSON'S   PRISONERS 

T"*\AY  broke  drearily  across  the  clearing.  Mist 
**~*  rolled  about  the  dark  pines  and  when  the  wind 
got  stronger  the  dark  branches  tossed.  The  loghouse 
was  cold  and  trooper  Simpson,  turning  over  on  the 
hard  boards,  shivered.  Then  he  remarked  that  al- 
though the  pit-lamp  had  gone  out  the  room  was  not 
dark  and  he  was  dully  conscious  that  he  had  slept 
longer  than  he  ought.  After  a  few  moments,  his 
glance  rested  on  an  object  covered  by  blankets  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room  and  he  got  up  with  a  jerk. 

His  head  hurt  and  he  was  dizzy.  He  now  remem- 
bered that  he  had  run  against  a  stump  and  fallen  into 
the  ditch ;  but  he  must  brace  up  and  with  something  of 
an  effort  he  crossed  the  floor.  So  far  as  he  could  see, 
the  warden's  eyes  were  shut  and  his  face  was  pinched. 
All  the  same,  Simpson  thought  he  breathed  and  when 
he  touched  him  his  skin  was  not  cold. 

"Hello !"  he  said,  and  Stannard,  sitting  by  Douglas, 
turned. 

"He's  very  sick,"  Simpson  resumed.  "What  are  we 
going  to  do  about  it?" 

"We  must  try  to  keep  him  warm  and  when  he  can 
swallow  give  him  a  little  weak  liquor  and  perhaps  some 
hot  soup.  I  expect  that's  all,  but  I  have  sent  for  a 

doctor." 

135 


136  NORTHWEST! 

"I  see  you  have  given  him  good  blankets,"  said 
Simpson,  who  looked  about.  "Leyland's  not  back;  you 
allowed  he  had  gone  out  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
where's  the  big  man  ?" 

"I  stated  Leyland  went  out  a  few  minutes  before 
Deering  inquired  for  him,"  Stannard  said  dryly. 
"Some  time  after  Leyland  went,  Deering  started  for 
the  bush." 

"Then,  I've  got  stung!  You  knew  I'd  lost  my  rifle 
and  you  helped  my  prisoners  get  off !" 

Stannard  smiled.  "To  talk  about  your  prisoners  is 
ridiculous;  I  imagine  we  are  rather  your  hosts.  I  am 
not  a  policeman,  and  when  my  friends  resolved  to  leave 
the  camp  I  had  no  grounds  to  meddle.  However,  if  it 
will  give  you  some  satisfaction,  I'll  lend  you  a  rifle." 

"I'm  going  to  get  mine,"  said  Simpson  and  started 
across  the  clearing. 

He  came  back  before  long,  carrying  a  wet  rifle.  His 
clothes  were  muddy  and  his  mouth  was  tight. 

"I  found  her  in  two  or  three  minutes,  but  when  I 
was  in  the  ditch  last  night  I  felt  all  about." 

"To  find  an  object  in  the  dark  is  awkward,"  Stan- 
nard remarked. 

Simpson  gave  him  an  angry  glance.  "The  maga- 
zine's broke  and  the  ejector's  jambed.  I  don't  see 
how  she  got  broke.  I  didn't  hit  the  stump  with  my 
gun ;  I  hit  it  with  my  head." 

"The  thing  is  rather  obvious.  The  cut  ought  to 
satisfy  your  officer,"  said  Stannard  soothingly. 

"If  you  hadn't  let  your  partners  go,  I  wouldn't  have 


TROOPER  SIMPSON'S  PRISONERS  137 

had  to  satisfy  my  officer.  Now  I  sure  don't  see  where 
I  am." 

"The  situation  is  embarrassing,"  Stannard  agreed. 
"My  friends  have  been  gone  some  time  and  are  pretty 
good  mountaineers;  it's  possible  they  could  go  where 
you  could  not.  Then,  if  you  went  after  Deering  and 
Leyland,  I  might  go  off  another  way.  I  don't  want 
to  persuade  you,  but  perhaps  you  ought  to  stop  and 
take  care  of  Douglas." 

Simpson  frowned  and  put  down  his  damaged  rifle. 

"Looks  as  if  you  had  got  me  beat  and  I've  no  use 
for  talking.  Now  the  light's  good,  I'll  take  a  proper 
look  at  your  party's  tracks." 

Stannard  let  him  go  and  soon  afterwards  Bob  came 
in.  Sitting  down  on  the  boards,  he  struck  a  pungent 
sulphur  match  and  lighted  his  pipe.  Stannard's  glance 
got  hard.  He  knew  the  Western  hired  man's  inde- 
pendence, but  he  thought  Bob  truculent. 

"The  warden's  very  ill  and  your  tobacco's  rank,"  he 
said. 

"He's  sick  all  right.  I  doubt  if  he'll  get  better,"  Bob 
agreed  in  a  meaning  voice,  although  he  did  not  put 
away  his  pipe. 

For  a  few  moments  Stannard  pondered.  To  baffle 
the  young  trooper  had  rather  amused  him,  but  to  dis- 
pute with  Bob  was  another  thing. 

"If  Douglas  does  not  get  better,  it  will  be  awkward," 
Stannard  said. 

"It  will  sure  be  awkward  for  Mr.  Leyland." 

"Or  for  you!" 


138  NORTHWEST! 

"Shucks!  You  know  I  was  sort  of  superintending 
and  hadn't  a  gun." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Stannard.  "You  stated  you 
had  not  a  gun.  In  the  meantime,  I  imagine  Simpson 
is  measuring  distances  and  fixing  angles,  or  something 
like  that.  I  can't  judge  if  he  knows  his  job;  perhaps 
you  can." 

Bob's  glance  was  a  little  keener.  "Huh!"  he  said 
scornfully,  "the  kid's  from  the  cities  and  can't  read 
tracks.  All  the  same,  somebody  shot  Douglas,  and  if 
the  police  can't  fix  it  on  Leyland,  they'll  get  after  me." 

"I  don't  see  where  I  can  help.  For  one  thing,  Mr. 
Leyland  is  my  friend.  Then  all  I  can  state  is,  I  didn't 
see  you  carry  a  gun.  On  the  whole,  I  don't  think  the 
police  have  much  grounds  to  bother  you." 

"Well,  I  don't  take  no  chances;  the  police  would 
sooner  I  was  for  it.  They  can't  claim  Leyland  meant 
to  kill  the  warden,  but  they  might  claim  I  did.  Gimme 
a  hundred  dollars  and  I'll  quit." 

Stannard  smiled.  "I  have  not  got  ten  dollars;  I 
gave  Jimmy  my  wallet.  He's  your  employer." 

"Then,  if  I  run  up  against  Mr.  Leyland,  I'll  know. 
he  carries  a  wad  and  I  guess  I  can  persuade  him  to  see 
me  out,"  said  Bob.  "Now  I'm  going  to  take  all  the 
grub  I  want.  So  long !" 

He  went  off  and  Stannard  shrugged ;  but  a  few  mo- 
ments afterwards  he  rested  his  back  against  the  wall 
and  shut  his  eyes,  as  if  he  were  tired.  By  and  by 
Simpson  returned  and  met  Bob  near  the  door.  Bob 
carried  a  big  pack,  a  cartridge  belt,  and  a  rifle. 


TROOPER  SIMPSON'S  PRISONERS  139 

"Hello!"  said  Simpson.  "Another  for  the  woods? 
Well,  you  got  to  drop  that  pack.  You're  not 
going." 

"You  make  me  tired.  My  gun's  not  broke,"  Bob 
rejoined  and  shoved  the  muzzle  against  Simpson's 
chest.  "Get  inside,  sonny.  Get  in  quick!" 

The  Royal  North-West  Police  do  not  enlist  slack- 
nerved  men  and  Simpson's  pluck  was  good.  For  all 
that,  he  was  lightly  built  and  was  hurt,  while  Bob  was 
big  and  muscular.  When  Simpson  seized  the  rifle  bar- 
rel Bob  pushed  hard  on  the  butt.  The  trooper  stag- 
gered back,  struck  the  door-post,  and  plunged  into  the 
house.  Bob  laughed. 

"Your  job's  to  help  cure  your  partner.  Maybe  he 
knows  who  shot  him,"  he  remarked,  and  started  across 
the  clearing. 

Simpson  leaned  against  the  wall  and  gasped.  When 
he  got  his  breath  he  turned  to  Stannard  savagely. 
"Where's  your  rifle?" 

"In  the  corner  behind  you,"  Stannard  replied,  and 
Simpson,  seizing  the  rifle,  jerked  open  the  breech. 

"My  cartridge  shells  won't  fit." 

"It's  possible,"  said  Stannard.  "I  didn't  engage  to 
lend  you  ammunition,  but  if  you  go  to  the  barn,  you'll 
find  a  brown  valise.  Bring  me  the  valise  and  I  may 
find  you  a  box  of  cartridges." 

"Do  you  reckon  Bob  is  going  to  wait  until  I  get  all 
fixed?" 

"That's  another  thing,"  said  Stannard  pleasantly. 

Simpson  put  down  the  rifle.    "In  about  a  minute  the 


140  NORTHWEST! 

fellow'll  hit  the  timber  and  his  sort  don't  leave  much 
trail.    Then  you  have  not  pulled  out  yet." 

"You  imagine  if  you  went  after  Bob  and  did  not 
find  him,  you  might  not  find  me  when  you  came  back?" 

"That's  so,"  Simpson  agreed.  "Not  long  since  I 
reckoned  I'd  got  the  gang.  Now  you're  all  that's  left. 
The  packers  don't  count." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Stannard,  smiling.  "I'll  agree  to 
remain.  I  expect  to  pay  a  fine  for  poaching,  although 
I  didn't  know  I  was  on  the  reserve.  Since  I'm  re- 
signed, it  doesn't  look  as  if  my  friends  had  an  object 
for  shooting  Douglas.  You  see,  I  killed  the  big-horn." 

"All  the  same,  three  have  lit  out." 

"There's  the  puzzle;  the  warden  was  hit  by  one 
bullet.  I  own  I  don't  see  much  light ;  but  I  think  you 
sketched  the  clearing." 

Simpson  pulled  out  a  note-book  and  Stannard  re- 
marked that  the  plan  of  the  ground  was  carefully 
drawn.  He  thought  the  spots  the  sportsmen  had  occu- 
pied were  accurately  marked;  distances  and  the  lines 
of  the  warden's  and  Simpson's  advance  were  indicated. 

"The  thing's  like  a  map,"  he  said.  "How  did  you 
fix  the  positions  ?" 

"I  carry  a  compass  and  can  step  off  a  measurement 
nearly  right.  At  Regina  they  teach  us  to  study  tracks, 
but  I  was  at  a  surveyor's  office  before  I  joined  up." 

"Then,  you  are  a  surveyor?"  said  Stannard  with 
keen  interest,  for  he  saw  the  accuracy  of  the  plan  was 
important. 


TROOPER  SIMPSON'S  PRISONERS  141 

Simpson  smiled.  "Surveying's  a  close  profession. 
I  was  a  clerk,  but  I  copied  plans  and  sometimes  the 
boss  took  me  out  to  help  pull  the  measuring  chain. 
Well,  I  guess  that  plan  will  stand!" 

When  Stannard  gave  back  the  book  his  look  was 
thoughtful,  but  he  said,  "Until  the  doctor  arrives,  we 
must  concentrate  on  keeping  Douglas  alive.  To  be- 
gin with,  we'll  get  the  packers  to  make  a  branch  bed 
and  light  a  fire." 

Douglas  lived,  but,  so  far  as  the  others  could  see, 
this  was  all.  He  hardly  moved  and  he  did  not  talk, 
but  sometimes  at  night  his  skin  got  hot  and  he  raved 
in  a  faint  broken  voice.  A  packer  shot  some  willow 
grouse  and  they  made  broth,  and  Stannard  put  away 
the  party's  small  stock  of  liquor  and  canned  delicacies 
for  his  use.  Sometimes  he  swallowed  a  little  food, 
but  for  the  most  part  he  lay  like  a  log  in  blank  uncon- 
sciousness. 

Simpson,  Stannard,  and  a  packer  watched,  and  be- 
fore long  Stannard  knew  the  trooper  was  his  man. 
He  had  qualities  that  attracted  trustful  youth  and  used 
his  talent  cleverly.  For  all  that,  when  the  doctor  and 
an  officer  of  the  mounted  police  arrived,  Stannard's 
look  was  worn  and  Simpson's  relief  was  keen.  The 
officer  sent  Stannard  from  the  room,  but  ordered  him 
to  wait  at  the  barn. 

After  some  time  Simpson  came  to  the  barn  and 
Stannard,  returning  to  the  house,  saw  the  officer's 
brows  were  knit.  The  doctor  put  some  instruments 


142  NORTHWEST! 

into  a  case  and  then  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  his 
companion.  Stannard  imagined  they  had  not  heard 
his  step  and  for  the  moment  had  forgotten  about  him. 
"He  was  obviously  hit  in  front.  The  bullet  mark's 
near  the  middle  of  his  body  and  indicates  he  was  going 
for  the  man  who  shot  him,"  the  officer  remarked. 

"The  wound  at  the  back  does  not  altogether  sup- 
port your  argument,"  the  doctor  replied.  "It  is  not 
at  the  middle,  and  the  fellow  is  lucky  because  it  is  not. 
The  mark's,  so  to  speak,  obliquely  behind  the  other." 
"The  mark  where  a  bullet  leaves  the  body  is  gener- 
ally larger?" 

"To  reckon  on  its  being  larger  is  a  pretty  safe  rule," 
the  doctor  agreed. 

Stannard's  interest  was  keen,  but  the  officer  saw  him 
and  looked  at  the  doctor,  who  signed  to  Stannard  to 
advance. 

"I  imagine  you  have  used  some  thought  for  the  sick 
man,"  he  said.  "Sit  down ;  I  want  to  know- 
In  a  few  minutes  Stannard  satisfied  his  curiosity,  and 
the  officer  then  took  him  to  another  room.  He  used 
reserve,  but  he  was  polite,  and  Stannard  thought  he 
had  examined  Simpson  and  the  trooper's  narrative  had 
carried  some  weight. 

"The  doctor  states  Douglas  must  not  be  moved,"  the 
officer  presently  remarked.  "In  the  morning,  I  must 
start  for  the  railroad  and  you  will  go  with  me.  I'll 
try  to  make  things  as  easy  as  I  can,  but  if  you  tried 
to  get  away,  you  would  run  some  risk.  The  Royal 


TROOPER  SIMPSON'S  PRISONERS  143 

North-West  have  powers  the  Government  does  not 
give  municipal  police." 

"Had  I  wanted  to  get  away,  I  would  have  gone 
some  time  since,"  Stannard  replied. 

The  other  nodded.  "Simpson  admits  your  help  was 
worth  much.  Well,  you  will  certainly  be  made  ac- 
countable for  poaching,  but  this  may  satisfy  my  chiefs 
— I  don't  know  yet.  I  expect  there's  no  use  in  my  try- 
ing to  get  some  light  about  your  friends'  plans?" 

"There  is  not  much  use,"  Stannard  agreed.  "For 
one  thing,  my  friends  did  not  altogether  enlighten 
me" 

"Very  well,"  said  the  officer,  smiling.  "So  long  as 
you  do  not  go  off  the  ranch,  you  can  go  where  you 
like.  After  breakfast  in  the  morning  we  start  for  the 
railroad." 


XVI 

THE   NECK 

MIST  floated  about  the  rocks  and  the  evening  was 
dark.  To  push  on  was  rash,  but  Jimmy  hoped 
he  might  get  down  to  the  trees  below  the  snow-line. 
Anyhow,  he  must  if  possible  get  off  the  broken  crest 
of  the  range.  Since  noon  until  the  sun  went  west  and 
shadow  crept  across  the  mountain,  he  and  the  Indian 
had  crouched  behind  a  shelf  and  watched  snow  and 
stones  plunge  to  the  valley.  Now  all  was  quiet  and 
the  snow  was  firm,  but  the  mist  was  puzzling  and 
Jimmy  could  not  see  where  he  went  All  he  knew  was, 
he  followed  the  neck  to  lower  ground. 

Jimmy  was  tired.  In  the  wilds,  if  one  can  shoot 
straight,  fresh  meat  may  sometimes  be  got,  but  one 
must  carry  a  rifle,  flour,  and  groceries.  Moreover,  he 
now  felt  the  reaction  after  the  strain,  and  the  journey 
on  which  he  had  started  daunted  him.  He  must  push 
across  a  wilderness  of  high  rocks  and  snow.  In  the 
mountains  one  cannot  travel  fast,  and  when  he  reached 
the  plains  the  distance  to  the  American  frontier  was 
long.  He  dared  not  stop  at  the  settlements  and,  until 
he  crossed  the  boundary,  must  camp  in  the  grass,  al- 
though the  days  got  short  and  the  nights  were  cold. 

The  Indian,  heavily  loaded,  went  a  few  yards  in 

144 


THE  NECK  145 

front,  but  he  came  from  the  warm  coast  and  his  part 
was  to  supply  them  with  game  and  fish.  Jimmy  got 
some  comfort  from  reflecting  that  he  himself  knew  the 
Swiss  rocks,  because  he  rather  thought  all  mountains 
whose  tops  were  above  the  snow-line,  so  to  speak,  ap- 
proximated to  a  type. 

Frost  split  their  ragged  pinnacles  and  great  blocks 
plunged  down.  Avalanches  ground  their  shoulders  to 
precipitous  slopes,  from  which  battered  crags  stuck 
out.  As  a  rule,  the  top  of  the  long  ridges  was  narrow, 
like  a  rough  saw-edge,  but  sometimes  a  bulging  snow- 
cornice  followed  the  crest.  Where  the  snow-fields 
dropped  to  a  hollow,  a  glacier  generally  went  down  in 
flowing  curves.  One  could  follow  a  glacier,  but  at 
some  places  the  surface  wrinkled  and  broke  in  tre- 
mendous cracks. 

By  and  by  the  Indian  stopped  and  Jimmy  looked 
about.  The  neck  had  got  very  steep  and  the  mist  was 
thick.  The  pitch  at  the  top  of  the  glacier  is  awkward 
and  Jimmy  knitted  his  brows.  If  he  balanced  properly, 
pushed  off,  and  trailed  his  rifle  butt,  he  would  go  down 
like  a  toboggan;  the  trouble  was,  he  might  go  over  a 
perpendicular  fall  and  into  the  bergschrund  crack.  To 
climb  clown  and  slip  meant  a  furious  plunge  like  the 
other,  and  if  there  was  not  a  bergschrund,  he  might 
hit  a  rock.  Yet,  if  he  meant  to  go  east,  he  must  get 
down,  and  for  a  few  minutes  he  sat  moodily  in  the 
snow. 

The  strange  thing  was,  Stannard  had  told  him  to 
try  the  neck.  Stannard  knew  much  about  rocks  and 


146  NORTHWEST! 

glaciers,  but  perhaps  he  had  not  explored  far.  Then, 
to  some  extent,  Jimmy  had  started  because  Stannard 
urged  him.  Now  he  thought  about  it,  to  run  away  was 
to  admit  his  guilt.  Stannard  ought  to  have  seen  this, 
but  obviously  had  not.  All,  however,  had  got  a  nasty 
jolt,  and  when  one  was  jolted  one  was  not  logical.  In 
the  meantime,  he  must  concentrate  on  getting  down. 

By  and  by  he  heard  a  shout  and  steps.  Flat  lumps 
of  snow  like  plates  rolled  down  and  Jimmy  thrilled. 
Somebody  was  coming  and  he  thought  he  knew  Deer- 
ing's  voice.  Then  an  indistinct  object  pierced  the 
mist,  slid  for  some  distance  and  stopped. 

"Hello,  Jimmy !  You  haven't  got  far  ahead,"  Deer- 
ing  shouted,  and  his  strong  voice  echoed  in  the  rocks. 

Jimmy  was  moved  and  comforted.  Deering  looked 
very  big  and  his  heartiness  was  bracing. 

"I  was  forced  to  stop  at  the  buttress  in  the  after- 
noon." 

"Sure,"  said  Deering.  "I  reckoned  on  your  get- 
ting held  up.  I  was  on  the  ridge  and  shoved  right 
along,  but  I'm  going  to  stop  for  a  few  minutes  now. 
Get  off  the  snow;  we'll  sit  on  my  pack." 

"What  about  the  warden?"  Jimmy  asked. 

"When  I  started  he  wasn't  conscious.  Shock  col- 
lapse, I  guess,  but  you  could  hear  his  breath  and  a 
little  color  was  coming  to  his  skin.  On  the  whole,  I 
think  if  they  get  a  doctor  quick  he'll  pull  Douglas 
through.  The  trouble  is,  we  won't  know —  But  we'll 
talk  about  this  again.  The  ground  ahead  is  blamed 
steep.  Looks  as  if  we  might  hit  an  awkward  schrund 


THE  NECK  147 

at  the  top  of  the  glacier.  Anyhow,  we'll  wait  a  bit.  I 
think  the  moon's  coming  out." 

Jimmy  agreed.  He  knew  that  where  a  snow-field 
comes  down  nearly  perpendicularly  to  a  glacier  one 
generally  finds  a  tremendous  crack.  By  and  by  the 
mist  rolled  off  and  a  small  dim  moon  came  out.  Deer- 
ing  got  up  and  when  he  strapped  on  his  pack  they 
started  down  the  slope.  They  used  caution  and  after 
a  time  Deering  stopped. 

The  mist  was  thinner  and  one  could  see  for  a  short 
distance.  Black  and  white  rock  bordered  the  narrow- 
ing neck,  and  in  front  the  snow  fell  away,  plunging 
down  rather  like  a  frozen  wave.  Shreds  of  mist 
floated  up  from  the  cloud  that  filled  the  valley,  and 
Jimmy,  looking  down  on  the  vapor's  level  top,  got  a 
sense  of  profound  depth.  All  the  same,  the  mist  did 
not  interest  him  much.  Fifty  yards  off,  an  uneven 
dark  streak  marked  the  bottom  of  the  snowy  wave. 
The  streak  was  broad;  its  opposite  edge  sparkled  in 
the  moon  and  then  melted  into  shadow  that  got  deeper 
until  it  was  black.  Jimmy  studied  the  yawning  gap 
and  shivered.  Had  Deering  not  arrived  and  the  moon 
shone  out,  he  thought  he  would  have  gone  across  the 
edge. 

"I've  no  use  for  fooling  around  a  schrund  in  the 
mist  and  we  can't  wait  for  daybreak,"  Deering  re- 
marked. "We  must  get  back  and  make  the  timber  line 
on  the  other  side  before  we  freeze." 

Jimmy  doubted  if  he  could  get  back  and  shrank  from 
the  effort.  He  thought  the  buttress  five  or  six  hun- 


148  NORTHWEST! 

dred  feet  above  him,  and  for  a  fresh,  athletic  man  to 
get  up  in  an  hour  was  good  climbing.  But  he  was  not 
fresh;  his  body  was  exhausted  and  he  had  borne  a 
heavy  nervous  strain.  All  the  same,  to  wait  in  the 
snow  for  daybreak  was  unthinkable. 

They  fronted  the  long  climb  and  Jimmy,  breathing 
hard  and  sometimes  stumbling,  made  slow  progress. 
He  doubted  if  he  could  have  got  up  the  steepest  pitch 
had  not  Deering  helped  him,  and  at  another  the  Indian 
took  his  pack.  They  reached  the  top,  and  Deering 
studied  the  white  slope  that  went  down  the  other  side. 
The  moon  had  gone  and  thick  cloud  rolled  about  the 
heights. 

"This  lot  peters  out  in  a  gravel  bank  near  the  snow- 
line.  I  guess  we'll  slide  it,"  he  said  and  vanished  in 
the  mist. 

Jimmy  braced  his  legs,  pushed  off  and  let  himself  go. 
In  Switzerland  he  had  studied  the  glissade,  but  when 
one  carries  a  heavy  load  to  balance  on  a  precipitous 
slope  is  difficult.  It  looked  as  if  Deering  could  not 
balance,  because  after  a  few  moments  Jimmy  shot  past 
an  object  that  rolled  in  the  snow.  Then  he  himself 
lost  control,  his  pack  pulled  him  over,  and  he  went 
head- foremost  down  hill.  When  he  stopped  the  pitch 
was  easier,  and  looking  back  he  saw  a  belt  of  cloud 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  above.  He  had  gone 
through  the  cloud  and  when  he  turned  his  head  he  saw 
dark  forest  roll  up  from  the  valley  in  front.  For  all 
that,  the  highest  trees  were  some  distance  off. 

By  and  by  the  Indian  and  Deering  arrived  and  soon 


THE  NECK  149 

afterwards  the  snow  got  thin.  Stones  covered  the 
mountain-side  and  now  and  then  a  bank  their  feet  dis- 
turbed slipped  away  and  carried  them  down.  At 
length,  Deering,  smashing  through  some  juniper  scrub, 
seized  a  small  dead  pine,  and  when  Jimmy,  breathless 
and  rather  battered,  arrived,  declared  they  had  gone 
far  enough.  They  had  got  fuel  and  water  ran  in  the 
stones. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Jimmy  sat  down  on  thin 
branches  in  a  hollow  behind  a  rock.  In  front  a  fire 
snapped  and  the  rock  kept  off  the  wind.  The  smell 
of  coffee  floated  about  the  camp  and  the  Indian  was 
occupied  with  a  frying-pan. 

When  Jimmy  had  satisfied  his  appetite  he  lighted 
his  pipe.  He  was  warm  and  the  daunting  sense  of 
loneliness  had  gone.  By  and  by  Deering  began  to  talk. 

"When  Stannard  stated  you  had  pulled  out  for  the 
foothills  I  thought  I'd  better  come  along.  He  talked 
about  your  shoving  across  for  the  boundary,  but  I 
doubted  if  you  could  make  it.  Perhaps  an  Alpine 
Club  party,  starting  from  a  base  camp,  with  packers 
to  relay  supplies,  could  cross  the  rocks,  but  when  your 
outfit's  a  little  flour  and  a  slab  of  pork  it  sure  can't 
be  done.  My  notion  is,  we'll  get  back  from  the  rail- 
road, pitch  camp  in  a  snug  valley  and  hunt." 

"But  you  have  no  grounds  to  hide  from  the  police." 

"I'm  pretty  keen  on  hunting  and  I  like  it  in  the 
mountains,"  Deering  replied  with  a  laugh.  "To  start 
with  horses  and  packers  is  expensive,  but  our  hunting 
won't  cost  much.  Then  I'd  a  sort  of  notion  I  ought 


150  NORTHWEST! 

to  see  you  out.  We'll  let  it  go  at  that.  For  a  time 
the  police  will  watch  the  railroad,  but  they'll  get  tired." 

"You're  a  very  good  sort,"  Jimmy  declared  and  re- 
sumed :  "The  Royal  North- West  boast  they  have 
never  let  a  man  they  really  wanted  get  away." 

"Police  talk !"  said  Deering.  "Reckon  it  up.  They 
put  two  troopers  to  watch  a  hundred  miles  of  wilder- 
ness. In  broken,  timbered  country  a  horse  can't  go 
and  a  man  can  hardly  shove  along.  I  allow  the  boys 
are  smart,  but  they  can't  do  more  than's  possible  for 
flesh  and  blood.  When  we've  put  them  off  our  track 
we'll  fix  up  a  scheme." 

"Now  I  think  about  it,  I  don't  know  if  I  ought  to 
have  run  away.  Stannard  rather  persuaded  me  to 
start." 

"Perhaps  he  was  justified.  The  forestry  depart- 
ment bosses  can't  allow  their  wardens  to  be  shot. 
Then  you  belong  to  a  gang  that  had  killed  big-horn  on 
a  reserve  and  engaged  a  notorious  poacher  for  guide. 
When  Douglas  was  shot  he  was  getting  after  your 
man.  On  the  whole,  I  reckon  I'd  have  pulled  out. 
But  I  don't  see  why  Stannard  suggested  your  going  for 
the  plains.  He  ought  to  know  you  couldn't  make  it." 

"He  didn't  know,"  Jimmy  declared. 

"Very  well!  I  reckon  he  knew  you  could  not  get 
down  the  neck.  Anyhow,  he  knew  the  ground;  he 
was  up  on  the  range." 

Jimmy  was  vaguely  disturbed.  Deering's  remarks 
indicated  that  he  was  not  satisfied  and  he  thought  the 
fellow  studied  him. 


THE  NECK  151 

"Stannard  reached  the  neck,  but  it's  obvious  he  did 
not  go  far  enough  to  see  the  ice-fall." 

"I  didn't  see  the  ice- fall,  but  I  expected  to  get  up 
against  something  of  the  sort.  Stannard's  a  famous 
climber." 

"After  all,  we  might  have  got  down." 

"It's  possible,"  Deering  agreed  with  some  dryness. 
"If  we'd  had  two  good  fresh  men,  a  proper  rope  and 
ice-picks,  I  might  have  tried,  after  sun-up.  But  we 
hadn't  got  the  proper  truck,  and  I  own  I  wasn't  fresh." 

"I  was  exhausted,"  said  Jimmy.  "Still  an  exploit 
we  thought  daunting  might  not  daunt  Stannard.  I 
expect  that  accounts  for  it." 

Deering  gave  him  a  keen  glance  and  smiled. 

"Oh,  well ;  he's  sure  a  good  man  on  the  rocks." 

Jimmy  knocked  out  his  pipe.  So  long  as  he  had 
persuaded  Deering  that  Stannard  had  not  carelessly 
allowed  him  to  run  a  risk  he  was  content.  He  did  not 
want  to  dispute  about  it.  He  liked  Deering  and  to 
see  him  across  the  fire  was  some  comfort.  Deering 
had  not  Stannard's  qualities,  but  Jimmy  began  to  see 
he  himself  was  rather  Deering's  sort  than  the  other's. 
Then  in  the  mountains  cultivation  had  not  the  impor- 
tance it  had,  for  example,  at  an  English  country  house. 
Jimmy  liked  Deering's  raw  human  force,  his  big  mus- 
cular body,  and  his  rather  noisy  laugh.  Anyhow, 
Deering  had  joined  him  and  meant  to  see  him  out.  He 
put  away  his  pipe,  pulled  up  his  thick  blue  blanket  and 
went  to  sleep. 


XVII 

DILLON    MEDITATES 

WHEN  Stannard  reached  the  settlements  he  was 
again  examined  by  the  police.  He  knew  where 
frankness  paid  and  was  frank,  but  he  owed  something 
to  trooper  Simpson's  narrative  and  something  to  his 
personal  charm.  A  magistrate  ordered  him  to  pay  a 
rather  heavy  fine  and  give  up  the  big-horn  heads,  and 
then  let  him  go,  but  Stannard  doubted  if  the  police 
were  altogether  satisfied.  The  officer  who  examined 
him  was  remarkably  keen. 

On  the  evening  Stannard  returned  to  the  hotel, 
Laura  and  Dillon  occupied  chairs  at  the  table  on  the 
terrace.  Electric  lights  burned  on  the  veranda,  for 
the  days  got  short,  but  the  sunset  was  not  altogether 
gone.  Dillon  saw  Laura's  face  in  profile  against  the 
fading  reflections.  She  looked  away  from  him  to  the 
north,  where  pines  and  rocks  and  snow  were  all  deep, 
soft  blue.  Her  arm  was  on  the  table,  her  body  was 
partly  turned,  and  Dillon  thought  her  strangely  beau- 
tiful. All  the  same,  he  wanted  her  to  look  round. 

"You  are  quiet,"  he  remarked. 

"I'm  thinking  about  Jimmy  in  the  wilds.  Do  you 
mind?" 

"Not  at  all,"  Dillon  declared.     "When  Jimmy  was 

152 


DILLON  MEDITATES  153 

around  the  hotel,  I  had  no  use  for  the  fellow ;  now  he's 
in  the  mountains,  I'm  bothered  about  him.  Somehow 
one  likes  Jimmy,  and  if  I  knew  how  I  could  help,  I'd 
start." 

Laura  turned  her  head  and  gave  him  a  curious 
glance. 

"Why  do  you  like  Jimmy  ?  He's  English  and  you're 
frankly  American." 

"That  is  so.  To  begin  with,  I've  no  pick  on  Jimmy 
because  he  loved  you;  if  he  had  not  loved  you,  I'd  have 
known  his  blood  wasn't  red.  Then,  although  he's  Eng- 
lish, in  a  sense  he's  our  type.  He's  sincere;  we  are 
sincere,  you  know,  and  perhaps,  from  your  point  of 
view,  we  don't  use  much  reserve.  You  can  move  us 
and  when  we're  moved  we  talk  and  get  busy.  Well, 
Jimmy's  like  that;  he's  marked  by  something  gener- 
ously human,  but  I  doubt  if  he  got  it  at  London  clubs. 
Maybe  it's  his  inheritance  from  the  folks  who  built 
the  cotton  mill." 

Laura  said  nothing.  She  doubted  if  Frank's  will- 
ingness to  state  his  grounds  for  liking  Jimmy  alto- 
gether accounted  for  his  rather  unusual  effort.  In- 
deed, she  imagined  he  labored  to  get  a  light  on  a  sub- 
ject that  puzzled  him. 

"Well,"  he  resumed,  "to  know  Deering  went  after 
Jimmy  is  some  comfort.  If  Jimmy  gets  up  against  it 
in  the  rocks,  Deering  will  see  him  through." 

"Your  trust  in  Deering  is  remarkable !" 

"He's  a  white  man,"  said  Dillon  with  a  smile.  "To 
be  his  friend  cost  me  high,  but  now  I've  cut  out  bets 


154  NORTHWEST! 

and  cards,  I'd  sooner  he'd  got  my  money  than  an- 
other. You  see,  I  got  something  back.  The  fellow's 
big." 

Laura  was  annoyed.  She  wanted  to  feel  Deering 
was  her  antagonist  and  had  exploited  Frank's  trust. 
The  trouble  was,  she  could  not  altogether  do  so,  but 
she  dared  not  admit  that  Stannard  shared  his  guilt  and 
perhaps  his  reward.  To  chastise  Deering,  so  to  speak, 
exculpated  her  father. 

"He  is  certainly  muscular,  and  rather  gross,"  she 
remarked. 

"He's  flesh  and  blood.  I  doubt  if  you  quite  get  us 
yet.  In  the  West,  we  haven't  cultivated  out  rude  emo- 
tions; we  like  a  fellow  who  plunges  at  an  obstacle, 
sweats  and  laughs,  and  sometimes  gets  mad.  We're 
up  against  savage  Nature  and  our  job  is  a  man's  first 
job,  to  satisfy  human  needs.  Well,  you  know  my 
father;  he's  a  pretty  good  Western  type.  When  he 
started  in,  his  food  was  frugal  and  his  clothes  were 
overalls.  Now  he's  moving  forests,  and  architects 
come  to  study  the  office  block  he  built;  but  if  things  go 
wrong  in  the  woods,  his  superintendents  know  he  can 
use  their  talk  and  handle  a  cant-pole.  His  power 
springs  from  the  primitive  streak." 

"We'll  let  it  go,"  said  Laura,  and  indicated  the  long 
rows  of  pines  melting  into  the  gloom.  "Dark  now 
comes  soon." 

"Before  long  the  frost  will  come  and  in  the  moun- 
tains the  cold  is  pretty  fierce.  On  Puget  Sound  the 
soft  Chinook  blows  and  the  white  Olympians  stand 


DILLON  MEDITATES  155 

between  you  and  the  winds  from  the  Rockies.  The 
old  man's  keen  for  me  to  bring  you  back.  What  about 
our  starting?" 

Laura  blushed,  for  she  had  agreed  to  marry  Dillon 
soon,  but  she  said,  "My  father  cannot  go  yet.  So 
long  as  Jimmy  is  in  the  mountains  and  the  warden 
cannot  tell  his  story,  I  think  he  will  remain  in  Canada. 
Perhaps  he  ought  to  remain." 

"Oh,  well;  you  can  reckon  on  Mr.  Stannard's  tak- 
ing the  proper  line,"  Dillon  agreed  rather  moodily. 
"You  feel  the  thing's  mechanical.  Mr.  Stannard  is 
like  that." 

"Mechanical  ?"  said  Laura,  lifting  her  brows. 

"His  taking  the  proper  line's  mechanical.  He 
doesn't  bother  about  it.  In  the  West,  his  correctness  is 
somehow  exotic." 

"If  my  father  is  exotic,  I  expect  I  am  exotic." 

"Sure !  You  are  like  a  bird  of  paradise  or  a  flower 
from  the  tropics.  We  are  a  rude  lot  of  hustlers  and 
your  grace  and  beauty  carry  us  away." 

"You're  romantic,  but  sometimes  you're  rather 
nice,"  Laura  remarked  with  a  smile.  "All  the  same, 
if  my  father  resolves  to  remain  in  Canada,  it  is  not 
a  mechanical  resolve  but  because  he  feels  he  ought." 

"I  expect  that  is  so,"  Dillon  agreed,  and  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

He  thought  Stannard  ought  to  stay,  and  since  he 
meant  to  do  so,  to  doubt  him  was  not  logical;  yet 
Dillon  did  doubt.  For  one  thing,  the  fellow  was  Jim- 
my's friend,  but  when  Jimmy  started  for  the  rocks 


156  NORTHWEST! 

Deering,  not  the  other,  went  after  him.  Then  Stan- 
nard's  narrative  was  puzzling.  Jimmy  had  run  away 
and  his  going  indicated  that  he  was  accountable  for  the 
warden's  getting  shot.  If  Jimmy  imagined  he  had 
shot  at  a  deer,  he  ought  to  have  stayed.  Moreover, 
Bob  had  run  away,  and  if  he  had  hit  the  warden,  it 
was  obvious  that  Jimmy  had  not.  Stannard's  tale  was 
not  plausible,  and  since  Stannard  was  clever  Dillon  im- 
agined he  had  not  told  all  he  knew. 

But  Dillon  began  to  see  his  vague  antagonism  had 
another  foundation.  He  was  frankly  Western  and 
Stannard's  type  was  new,  although  some  people  in 
down-East  cities  cultivated  his  qualities.  On  the 
Pacific  slope,  men  were  highly-strung,  optimistic,  and 
rather  boyishly  keen.  They  plunged  into  big  risky 
undertakings,  sweated,  and  fought.  In  fact,  where 
Nature  was  not  yet  conquered,  their  part  was  pro- 
tagonist. Dillon  owned  that  he  himself  was  loafing, 
but  he  had  not  loafed  long  and  would  soon  return  to 
his  proper  occupation. 

Stannard  had  not  an  occupation  and  Dillon  thought 
the  grounds  for  his  distrust  were  there.  Moreover, 
he  had  not  a  bank-roll,  although  he  lived  extravagantly 
and  indulged  his  fastidiousness.  His  habit  was  to 
strike  exactly  the  proper  note,  but  sometimes  its 
monotonous  accuracy  jarred.  Fastidious  cultivation 
was  for  women.  Yet  Stannard  was  not  at  all  wom- 
anly; Dillon  began  to  sense  in  him  a  hard,  calculating 
vein.  For  all  that,  he  must  not  exaggerate,  and  Laura 
was  not  like  her  father. 


DILLON  MEDITATES  157 

"You  could  of  course  join  my  folk,  although  Mr. 
Stannard  would  sooner  wait,"  he  said. 

"I  think  not.  My  father  planned  the  excursion  to 
the  mountains  and  led  the  party.  Until  people  are 
satisfied  about  the  shooting  accident,  I  must  not  go  to 
your  house." 

"Now  you  are  ridiculous !"  Dillon  declared. 

"All  the  same,  I  will  not  go,"  said  Laura  firmly. 

"Then,  I'm  going  to  stay  with  you.  I'd  like  to 
stay,  but  if  Jimmy  wants  me,  I'm  his  man." 

"I  don't  expect  Jimmy  will  need  you.  Father  im- 
agines he's  a  long  way  off  and  will  soon  reach  the 
plains,"  said  Laura  and  began  to  talk  about  something 
else. 

Jimmy  was  not  steering  for  the  plains;  he  had,  in 
fact,  known  for  some  time  that  he  could  not  get  there. 
The  morning  after  Deering  joined  him  was  calm  and 
cold.  The  sun  touched  the  high  rocks  and  in  places 
a  pine  branch  sparkled  with  dew,  but  a  thousand  feet 
below  the  camp  the  mist  was  like  a  level  floor.  One 
could  not  see  the  valley,  and  the  turmoil  of  a  river 
came  up  with  a  faint  hoarse  throb  as  if  from  a  long 
way  off.  Jimmy's  fatigue  and  gloom  were  gone;  he 
felt  fresh  and  to  see  Deering  fry  pork  was  comforting. 
He  got  a  rather  frugal  breakfast  and  lighted  his  pipe. 

"What  are  our  plans  for  to-day?"  he  asked. 

"We  must  try  to  get  a  deer.  Fresh  venison's  most 
as  tough  as  rawhide,  but,  if  you  put  the  roasted  meat 
in  a  bag  with  salt,  after  a  week  or  two  you  can  eat  the 
stuff.  How  many  cartridges  have  you  got?" 


158  NORTHWEST! 

"Six,"  said  Jimmy  and  Deering  smiled. 

"You  started  for  the  plains  with  six  shells!  Well, 
I've  got  a  box  of  twenty-five,  but  somebody  has  taken 
out  ten  or  twelve.  Looks  as  if  we  want  to  shoot 
straight.  The  pork  won't  hold  up  long." 

"Where  do  we  go  when  we  have  got  a  deer?" 

"I  reckon  we'll  go  north,"  said  Deering  thought- 
fully. "They  talk  about  new  railroads,  but  so  tar  the 
only  line  of  communication  between  the  Rockies  and 
the  sea  is  the  C.  P.  R.  track.  The  settlements  follow 
the  line,  and  when  you  pull  out  of  the  narrow  belt 
you're  in  the  wilderness.  The  police  will,  no  doubt, 
reckon  on  your  trying  to  make  Vancouver.  We'll  stop 
in  the  wilds  and  let  them  watch  the  railroad  until  they 
get  tired." 

"But  if  they  find  I  haven't  gone  to  Vancouver,  won't 
they  try  the  bush?" 

"Look  at  Stannard's  map,"  said  Deering,  with  a 
smile.  "Note  the  row  of  ranges  and  valleys  running 
north  and  south.  But  the  big  ridges  and  furrows  are 
not  even;  they're  broken  by  high  bench  country  and 
cut  up  by  cross-spurs.  Pretty  awkward  ground  to 
search  for  two  fellows'  tracks!  Our  trouble's  not  to 
hide,  but  to  get  supplies.  All  the  food  they  use  in 
British  Columbia  comes  in  by  the  C.  P.  R." 

Jimmy  studied  the  map  and  agreed.  Moreover,  he 
was  young  and  the  wilds  called.  To  plunge  into  the 
great  desolation  was  something  of  an  adventure  and 
Deering  claimed  to  know  the  bush. 


DILLON  MEDITATES  159 

"What  about  your  hired  man?  Did  you  trust  the 
fellow?"  Deering  resumed. 

"I  had  no  grounds  to  doubt  him,"  Jimmy  replied  in 
a  thoughtful  voice.  "Bob  was  rather  inscrutable  and 
didn't  attract  me,  but  he  could  chop  and  this  was  all 
I  wanted." 

"So  far  as  you  can  calculate,  he  hadn't  a  pick  on 
you?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  think  he  was  satisfied  with  his  pay, 
and  since  I  generally  let  him  plan  the  work  we  did  not 
dispute.  All  the  same,  sometimes  I  imagined  he  gave 
me  a  queer  moody  look." 

"Do  you  think  he  was,  in  any  sense,  Stannard's 
man?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Jimmy,  with  some  surprise. 
"Anyhow,  I  don't  see — " 

"I  don't  see,"  Deering  admitted.  "I'm  looking  for 
a  light,  but  don't  get  much  yet.  Well,  when  you  have 
smoked  your  pipe  we'll  hit  the  trail." 

They  got  off  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  and  at  noon 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  A  high  spur  blocked 
the  valley  behind  them,  and  the  echoes  of  small  ava- 
lanches rolled  across  the  rocks.  Deering  declared  the 
sliding  snow  would  cover  their  tracks  at  the  neck,  but 
their  line  was  to  some  extent  obvious,  and  until  they 
could  break  it,  they  must  push  on  as  fast  as  possible. 

To  push  on  fast  was  hard.  Fallen  trees  and  tangled 
brush  blocked  the  gaps  in  the  rows  of  trunks,  but  by 
and  by  Jimmy,  looking  through  an  opening,  saw  the 


160  NORTHWEST! 

woods  shine  with  reflected  light.  The  trees  were  like 
silver  trees;  they  sparkled  as  if  touched  by  frost,  and 
for  a  few  moments  Jimmy  was  puzzled.  Then  he 
said,  "Rampikes?" 

Deering  nodded.  "A  big  burn!  I  expect  it  has 
cleared  some  ground  for  us." 

A  short  distance  farther  on,  the  brushwood  van- 
ished. Underfoot  was  a  soft  carpet  of  ashes  from 
which  the  trunks  rose  like  columns.  Their  branches 
were  gone  and  the  smooth,  round  logs  reflected  the 
light.  For  a  time  to  get  free  from  entangling  vines 
and  thorns  was  a  relief,  but  the  ash  was  soft  and  when 
one  disturbed  it,  went  up  in  clouds.  The  black  dust 
stuck  to  Jimmy's  hot  skin  and  he  labored  across  the 
clogging  stuff.  Then  the  desolation  began  to  react  on 
him.  The  birds  were  gone  and  the  feathery  ash  was 
not  broken  by  the  tracks  of  animals.  It  was  obvious 
they  would  not  find  a  deer.  All  was  dead,  and  but 
for  the  noise  of  falling  water  the  silence  was  daunting. 
At  length  Jimmy  stopped  and  leaned  against  a  trunk. 

"Come  off!"  said  Deering.  "Sit  down,  if  you  like, 
although  I'd  sooner  keep  on  my  feet.  You  don't  want 
to  lean  against  a  rampike." 

Jimmy  was  tired  and  sat  in  the  ashes. 

"How  do  the  fires  start?"  he  asked. 

"It's  puzzling.  The  forestry  people  claim  they're 
not  spontaneous,"  Deering  replied.  "Around  the  set- 
tlements, a  fire  sometimes  starts  from  a  burned  slash- 
ing and  the  police  get  after  the  homesteader.  All  the 
same,  you  hit  brulcs  in  country  the  Indians  and  pros- 


DILLON  MEDITATES  161 

pectors  leave  alone.  Anyhow,  I  guess  we're  lucky  be- 
cause there's  not  much  wind,  and  while  our  luck  is 
good  we'll  push  along." 

They  set  off  and  some  time  afterwards  the  roar  of 
an  avalanche  broke  the  brooding  calm.  The  noise 
swelled  and  rolled  about  the  valley,  as  if  great  rocks 
were  coming  down,  and  then  Jimmy  heard  a  near, 
sharp  crash.  He  jumped  mechanically,  and  looking 
back,  saw  a  pillar  of  dust  float  up  like  smoke  from  a 
blasting  shot.  In  the  dust,  a  big  rampike  slanted, 
broke,  and  plunged.  Another  went  and  Deering 
pushed  Jimmy. 

"We'll  pull  out !"  he  shouted  and  they  began  to  run. 

When  Jimmy  stopped  to  get  his  breath  the  echoes 
had  died  away  and  all  was  quiet,  but  he  felt  he  had 
had  enough  of  the  burned  forest.  After  studying  the 
rocks  and  gravel  on  the  hillside  he  turned  to  Deering. 

"You  talked  about  breaking  our  line,  and  I  expect 
we  could  get  over  the  spur  in  front,"  he  said.  "Let's 
try." 


XVIII 

THE    CARTRIDGE    BELT 

JIMMY'S  clothes  were  torn  and  he  was  bothered 
about  his  boots.  He  rather  thought  clothes  and 
boots  that  would  long  bear  the  strain  of  a  journey 
across  the  rocks  were  not  made.  At  all  events,  one 
could  not  buy  them  at  a  Canadian  settlement  store. 
Then  the  things  were  wet  and  the  morning  was  cold. 

For  all  that,  he  must  not  grumble.  The  deer  did 
not  like  the  heavy  dew  and  their  habit  was  to  come  out 
on  the  rocks  and  get  the  sun.  The  Indian  thought  he 
had  found  a  spot  they  haunted,  and  after  breakfast 
led  the  others  across  a  small  tableland.  By  and  by  he 
stopped  and  Jimmy  got  down  in  the  fern.  In  front, 
the  timber  was  thin  and  a  short  distance  off  was  a 
smooth  rock.  Jimmy  saw  the  rock  and  the  trees  on 
the  other  side,  but  for  a  few  moments  this  was  all. 
A  deer's  soft  color  harmonizes  with  stones  and  trunks, 
and,  when  its  outline  is  broken,  to  distinguish  the  ani- 
mal is  hard. 

The  Indian  frowned  and  signed,  and  Jimmy  imag- 
ined the  small  patch  of  light  color  cutting  a  pine  trunk 
was  a  head.  For  one  thing,  it  moved,  and  the  crooked 
line  below  it  looked  like  a  leg.  Jimmy  did  not  see 
the  deer's  back,  but  the  top  of  the  leg  indicated  where 
its  shoulder  was,  and  he  rested  his  rifle  on  a  branch. 

162 


THE  CARTRIDGE  BELT  163 

He  got  the  sights  where  he  wanted,  braced  his  muscles, 
held  his  breath,  and  steadily  pulled  the  trigger. 

The  deer  jumped  and  a  thin  streak  of  smoke  floated 
in  front  of  Jimmy's  eyes.  The  animal  was  not  on  the 
rock,  but  after  a  moment  or  two  he  saw  it  rise  from  a 
thicket  and  go  over  some  tangled  branches  a  man's 
height  from  the  ground.  Yet  he  thought  the  leap  awk- 
ward and  the  deer  came  down  in  the  fern  before  it 
ought.  His  hear*  beat  and  he  waited  for  another  shot, 
until  he  saw  Deering  a  few  yards  off  and  remembered 
that  their  cartridges  were  not  numerous.  Deering's 
body  was  firmly  poised,  his  head  was  bent  forward  and 
he  balanced  his  rifle  half-way  to  his  shoulder  as  if  it 
were  a  gun.  Jimmy  knew  he  could  use  it  like  a  gun. 

When  the  deer  broke  from  the  fern  at  the  edge  of 
the  tableland  Jimmy  did  not  shoot.  The  animal's  leap 
carried  it  across  a  clump  of  tall  raspberries,  but  it 
would  vanish  in  a  moment  and  the  brush  in  front  was 
thick.  Deering's  rifle  jerked,  and  the  graceful  body, 
carried  by  its  speed,  plunged  into  the  brush.  Jimmy 
heard  a  crash  and  the  deer  was  gone.  He  thought  it 
had  gone  over  a  rock  and  putting  down  his  rifle  he  ran. 

A  minute  or  two  afterwards  he  stopped  at  the  top 
of  a  precipitous  slope.  A  stream,  however,  cut  the 
mountain-side,  and  in  places  small  trees  were  rooted 
in  the  stones.  A  hundred  feet  below,  the  deer  lay  on 
a  shelf  by  a  waterfall. 

"I  think  I  can  reach  it,"  said  Jimmy,  and  went  cau- 
tiously down. 

They  needed  the  venison,  but  when  he  had  got  down 


164  NORTHWEST! 

a  short  distance  he  knew  he  was  rash,  for  it  looked 
as  if  the  rocks  on  the  other  side  of  the  waterfall  were 
perpendicular.  Then,  although  he  might  perhaps  reach 
the  shelf,  to  carry  the  deer  back  was  another  thing. 

Using  the  small  trees  for  support,  he  got  to  a  slab 
above  the  shelf.  The  slab  was  wet  and  dotted  by  greasy 
moss,  but  a  few  cracks  and  small  stones  broke  its  sur- 
face and  Jimmy  trusted  his  luck.  When  he  came  down 
the  ground  shook  and  he  saw  the  shelf  was  not,  as  he 
imagined,  a  solid  block  but  two  or  three  large  stones 
embedded  in  boggy  soil.  At  one  end  the  cascade  had 
scooped  out  a  small  basin  and  the  deer's  hind  quarters 
were  in  the  pool.  Jimmy  seized  its  fore  legs,  and  brac- 
ing his  feet  against  a  stone,  began  to  pull.  He  pulled 
hard,  but  although  he  felt  he  moved,  the  deer  did  not. 
Then  his  foot  went  down,  and  letting  go  the  animal, 
he  threw  himself  back. 

The  deer  rolled  over  and  vanished.  Water  splashed, 
and  Jimmy  saw  the  stones  plunge  down  the  face  of  the 
cliff.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  was  rather  angry  than 
alarmed.  They  wanted  the  meat  but  the  deer  was 
gone.  Then  he  saw  he  ran  some  risk  of  going  down 
the  cliff  and  he  began  to  study  the  ground.  Scratches 
on  the  stone  indicated  how  he  had  reached  the  spot, 
but  he  had  let  himself  go  because  the  shelf  was  in 
front.  The  pitch  was  very  steep  and  the  rock  was 
mossy.  Not  far  off  a  small  tree  grew  in  a  crack,  but 
he  could  not  reach  the  trunk  and  rather  thought  to  try 
would  send  him  over  the  precipice. 

He  heard  a  shout  and  nailed  boots  rattled.    Deering 


THE  CARTRIDGE  BELT  165 

was  coming  down,  although  he  was  not  yet  in  Jimmy's 
line  of  view.  After  a  time,  Jimmy,  lying  against  the 
rock,  turned  his  head  and  saw  Deering  had  got  hold 
of  the  tree. 

"I'm  anchored,"  said  Deering.  "Can  you  reach  my 
hand?" 

The  effort  was  risky,  but  Jimmy  tried  and  Deering 
seized  his  wrist.  Deering  pulled  him  up  for  a  foot  or 
two,  and  then  stopped  and  gasped. 

"Jamb  yourself  against  the  slab;  I've  got  to  let  go." 

Jimmy's  boots  slipped  on  the  smooth  stone  and  his 
hands  were  wet;  he  could  not  get  a  proper  hold  and 
the  moss  was  slimy  under  his  knees.  Spreading  out 
his  arms,  he  let  himself  go  slack  and  trusted  his  limp 
body  would  not  slip  back.  He  could  not  now  see 
Deering  and  did  not  know  what  he  did.  After  a 
moment  or  two  he  felt  him  seize  his  cartridge  belt. 

"Use  your  knees.    When  I  lift  grab  the  tree." 

The  cartridge  belt  got  tight  and  Jimmy,  using  its 
support,  reached  the  trunk.  His  jacket  felt  slack,  as 
if  something  were  gone,  but  this  was  not  important 
and  he  heard  Deering's  labored  breath. 

"Thanks!"  he  said,  rather  dully.  "We  have  lost 
the  deer." 

"We  have  used  two  shells,"  said  Deering.  "Let's 
get  up." 

They  got  up,  and  at  the  top  Jimmy  put  his  hand  to 
his  waist. 

"Hello!     Where's  my  belt?" 

"Now  I  think  about  it,  when  I  held  you  up  I  felt 


166  NORTHWEST! 

something  give.  I  guess  the  buckle  was  pulling  out. 
Well,  we  ought  to  see  the  brown  leather." 

They  did  not  see  it  and  Jimmy  said,  "All  the  car- 
tridges I  had  are  gone.  How  many  have  you  got?" 

"Twelve,"  said  Deering,  rather  grimly.  "Anyhow, 
I'm  not  going  down  again." 

Jimmy  nodded.  He  thought  the  belt  had  gone  over 
the  cliff. 

"I  brought  about  six  pounds  of  pork  from  the  camp." 

"My  load's  flour,  desiccated  fruit,  and  a  few  cans 
of  meat.  Looks  as  if  we  had  got  to  eat  salmon." 

"In  the  Old  Country,  one  doesn't  grumble  about 
eating  salmon,"  Jimmy  remarked. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Deering,  "I  was  raised  in  the  bush 
and  am  not  fastidious,  but  if  we  can't  get  salmon,  I'll 
be  resigned.  The  trouble  is,  since  food's  short  we  can't 
push  back  too  far  from  the  settlements.  Well,  we 
must  try  to  hit  a  creek." 

In  the  evening  they  came  down  to  a  small  river  and 
pitched  camp  on  the  bank.  The  Indian  cut  and  trimmed 
a  straight  fir  branch,  but  left  a  fork  at  the  thinner  end. 
Then  he  pulled  out  two  cleverly-carved  bone  barbs, 
which  he  fitted  on  the  forks  and  fastened  by  sinews  to 
the  staff. 

"You  could  carry  the  business  part  of  his  outfit  in 
your  pocket,"  Deering  remarked.  "I  expect  his  folks 
have  used  barbs  like  that  for  a  thousand  years.  An 
Indian's  tools  are  standardized,  but  when  he  thinks 
them  good  enough  he  stops.  All  the  same,  I  reckon 


THE  CARTRIDGE  BELT  167 

he  gets  most  as  far  as  a  man  can  get  alone.  He's  an 
artist,  but  we  beat  him  by  cooperating  to  make  ma- 
chines. Anyhow,  the  fellow  doesn't  want  you.  Take 
a  smoke  and  let  him  spear  a  fish." 

Jimmy  lighted  his  pipe  and  looked  about.  A  few 
yards  off,  the  current  splashed  against  the  stones. 
The  water  was  green,  and  the  line  of  driftwood  and 
dead  leaves  on  the  bank  indicated  that  the  frost  was 
stopping  the  muddy  streams  from  the  glaciers.  Some 
distance  down  the  river,  the  Indian  balanced  on  a  rock 
in  a  pool  at  the  tail  of  a  rapid.  For  a  time  he  did  not 
move  and  Jimmy  thought  his  quietness  statuesque.  The 
fellow  was  like  the  herons  he  had  studied  with  his 
glasses  by  a  pool  on  the  Scottish  border.  Then  his 
body  bent  and  the  spear  went  down.  The  thrust  and 
recovery  were  strangely  quick  and  Jimmy  rather 
doubted  if  the  man  had  moved. 

"It  looks  as  if  he  missed  his  stroke,"  he  said. 

"He's  using  a  fir  branch.  An  Indian  spear  is  beau- 
tifully modeled,"  Deering  replied. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  the  Indian  bent  back- 
wards and  a  shining  object  struck  the  bank.  Coming 
to  the  fire,  he  put  down  the  fish  and  Jimmy's  appetite 
was  blunted.  The  salmon  was  lean  and  battered.  Its 
color  was  dull  and  its  tail  was  broken.  Rows  of  scales 
were  rubbed  off ;  the  fins  were  worn  from  the  support- 
ing ribs. 

"I'm  not  as  hungry  as  I  was.  Are  all  like  that?" 
he  said. 


168  NORTHWEST! 

"It  depends  on  when  you  get  them,"  Deering  replied. 
"A  June  steelhead,  fresh  from  the  sea,  is  pretty  good, 
but  a  salmon  that  has  pushed  through  to  head  waters 
in  the  fall  is  another  thing.  When  you  think  about  it, 
the  salmons'  journey  inland  is  remarkable.  They  bore 
against  the  autumn  floods  when  the  melted  snow  comes 
down;  they  force  tremendous  rapids,  whirlpools,  and 
roaring  falls.  Where  the  water's  calm  in  the  valleys, 
eagles  and  fish-hawks  harry  them,  and  the  mink  hunts 
them  in  the  shallows.  But  they  can't  be  stopped ;  they 
follow  Nature's  urge  and  shove  on  across  all  obstacles 
for  the  distant  gravel  banks.  Then  they  spawn,  where 
they  were  hatched,  and  the  bears  eat  their  spent  car- 
casses. The  trouble  is,  I'm  not  a  bear,  but  I've  got 
to  eat  salmon." 

When  the  Indian  had  fried  two  or  three  thick  steaks, 
Jimmy  sympathized  with  Deering.  The  flesh  was  soft 
and  its  taste  was  rank.  For  all  that,  he  thought  if  he 
had  not  seen  the  salmon  he  might  have  had  a  better 
appetite.  At  the  hotel  he  had  eaten  because  his  food 
tempted  him;  now  he  ate  because  he  must.  By  and 
by  he  threw  down  his  tin  plate. 

"I've  had  enough.  If  we  can  find  a  deer,  we  must 
risk  another  cartridge.  We  have  got  twelve." 

"You  can't  reckon  on  getting  a  deer  for  every  shot, 
and  although,  as  a  rule,  the  deer  are  pretty  numerous 
about  the  small  clearings,  in  some  belts  of  back  coun- 
try you  can't  find  one.  I  expect  they're  attracted  by 
the  crops.  In  fact,  the  wild  animals  and  large  birds 


THE  CARTRIDGE  BELT  169 

aren't  much  afraid  of  the  ranchers;  they  quit  when 
the  automobiles  and  city  sports  arrive." 

"But  if  we  stop  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  settlement, 
the  police  may  get  on  our  trail,"  Jimmy  rejoined. 

"The  police  are  smart  and  I  allow  they're  obstinate. 
All  the  same,  to  search  the  rocks  from  Banff  to  Revel- 
stoke  is  a  big  job.  You  can  give  yourself  away  by  two 
things,  shooting  and  smoke,  but  we  can  fix  the  smoke 
and  we're  not  going  to  shoot  much.  As  soon  as  we  hit 
a  proper  spot,  we'll  build  a  shack." 

"By  and  by  our  supplies  will  run  out." 

"That  is  so,"  Deering  agreed.  "In  the  meantime, 
\ve're  baffling  the  police.  Just  now  I  expect  they're 
busy  looking  for  our  tracks,  but  they  have  got  other 
jobs  and  can't  keep  it  up.  Well,  when  we  think  they're 
forced  to  quit,  we'll  find  a  plan " 

He  stopped  and  the  Indian  turned  his  head.  A  faint, 
hoarse  bark  came  from  the  distance  and  echoed  across 
the  valley.  Jimmy  jumped  up  and  looked  about.  The 
light  was  going  and  the  pines  were  blurred. 

"A  dog?"  he  said. 

"A  timber  wolf,"  said  Deering.  "He's  not  alone. 
I  hear  another." 

A  howl,  pitched  on  a  high  mournful  note,  pierced 
the  gloom  and  Jimmy  shivered.  The  noise  was 
strangely  dreary. 

"Will  the  wolves  bother  us?" 

"I  think  not,"  said  Deering  and  talked  in  Chinook 
to  the  Indian,  who  nodded.  "The  fellow  agrees,"  he 


170  NORTHWEST! 

resumed.  "In  North  Ontario  we  watch  out  for  wolves 
when  the  snow  is  on  the  ground,  but  as  a  rule  in  Brit- 
ish Columbia  they  leave  the  ranchers  alone.  Some- 
times they  take  a  sheep ;  I  reckon  that's  all.  The  trou- 
ble is,  they  kill  deer,  and  when  the  wolves  start  hunt- 
ing the  deer  pull  out." 

Jimmy  got  down  on  his  blanket  by  the  fire.  He 
felt  the  wilds  were  daunting  and  to  see  the  flame  leap 
about  the  branches  was  some  comfort.  Now  and  then 
a  wolf  howled  in  the  distance,  but  by  and  by  all  was 
quiet  and  he  went  to  sleep. 


XIX 

USEFUL    FRIENDS 

T>REA'KFAST  was  over  and,  although  Jimmy 
•*-*  would  have  liked  another  bannock,  he  got  up  and 
strapped  on  his  pack.  Deering  needed  the  bannock, 
for  flour  was  running  out.  A  fire  burned  on  the  stone 
hearth  and  the  little  shack  in  a  corner  of  the  rocks 
was  warm.  Jimmy  did  not  want  to  leave  it,  but  he 
knew  he  must,  and  the  Indian  waited  for  him  to  start 

They  had  not  killed  a  deer  and  although  they  had 
shot  two  or  three  blue  grouse  a  blue  grouse  is  not 
large.  Sometimes  one  can  knock  down  a  little  willow 
grouse  with  a  stick,  but  the  willow  grouse  had  recently 
vanished  and  the  Indian  had  caught  nothing  in  his 
snares.  In  fact,  it  looked  as  if  all  the  birds  and  ani- 
mals had  gone  south.  Jimmy  had  eaten  salmon  until 
he  loathed  the  battered  fish,  but  the  salmon  had  be- 
gun to  die. 

"Your  load's  not  big,"  said  Deering.  "Have  you 
put  up  all  the  food  you  need?" 

"I've  got  all  the  food  I'm  going  to  take,"  Jimmy 
rejoined.  "I  can  load  up  at  Kelshope,  but  you  must 
wait  until  I  get  back." 

"Oh,  well;  but  since  I  know  the  bush  and  might 

make  better  time,  you  ought  to  let  me  go." 

171 


172  NORTHWEST! 

"You're  obstinate,"  said  Jimmy.  "I  know  Jardine 
and  we  want  his  help." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Deering  and  gave  him  his  hand. 
"Anyhow,  you  have  got  the  Indian  and  I  expect  he'll 
hit  the  shortest  line.  I  wish  you  luck." 

Jimmy  pulled  up  his  pack  and  set  off.  Speed  was 
important,  for  he  imagined  he  had  left  Deering  a 
larger  supply  of  food  than  the  other  knew.  Since  he 
was  going  to  Kelshope,  he  could  get  fresh  supplies,  but 
Deering  could  not.  Yet  if  he  was  longer  than  he  cal- 
culated, it  would  be  awkward.  Jimmy  felt  lonely  and 
rather  daunted.  The  shack  was  small  and  rude,  but 
the  bark  walls  kept  out  the  wind  and  in  the  cold  eve- 
nings he  had  liked  to  sit  by  the  snapping  fire. 

Now  the  trackless  wilderness  was  in  front,  and  he 
must  get  across  before  his  food  was  gone.  He  did 
get  across,  but  he  imagined  the  Indian's  inherited 
talents  accounted  for  his  doing  so.  Jimmy  himself  did 
not  know  much  about  the  journey.  When  he  thought 
about  it  afterwards,  he  dully  pictured  the  fatigue  and 
strain,  the  sharpening  pinch  of  hunger  and  the  stern 
effort  to  push  on. 

At  length  they  came  down  the  rocks  one  morning 
and  saw  his  clearing  in  the  distance.  Jimmy  gave 
the  Indian  all  the  food  he  had,  and  telling  him  to  camp 
at  the  ranch,  started  for  Jardine's.  He  was  hungry 
and  for  a  day  or  two  his  side  had  hurt.  Sometimes 
he  was  faint,  and  when  he  crossed  a  stony  belt  he 
stumbled  awkwardly.  For  all  that,  in  the  evening  he 
reached  the  split-rail  fence  at  Kelshope. 


USEFUL  FRIENDS  173 

Jimmy  knew  how  one  pulled  out  the  bars,  but  they 
baffled  him  and  he  knocked  down  the  crossed  supports. 
In  front  of  the  house  he  stopped,  for  a  flickering  light 
shone  from  the  window  and  he  saw  Margaret  sewing 
by  the  fire.  His  broken  boots  and  torn  clothes  embar- 
rassed him,  but  he  braced  up  and  went  to  the  door. 

Margaret  put  down  her  sewing  and  her  look  was 
rather  strained.  Jimmy  leaned  against  the  table  and 
gave  her  an  apologetic  smile.  His  hair  was  long,  his 
beard  had  begun  to  grow  and  his  face  was  pinched. 
His  ragged  clothes  looked  slack  and  although  he  had 
given  the  Indian  his  blanket,  his  shoulders  were  bent 
from  weariness. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Leyland !"  Margaret  exclaimed  in  a  pitiful 
voice. 

"To  my  friends,  I'm  Jimmy,"  he  rejoined.  "To 
know  you  and  your  father  are  my  friends  is  some  com- 
fort, because  I'm  going  to  use  your  friendship.  Be- 
sides, I  rather  think  I  don't  look  like  Mr.  Leyland." 

Margaret's  voice  was  gentle  and  she  said,  "Very 
well,  Jimmy !  But  where  have  you  come  from  ?" 

"I  started,  about  a  week  since,  from  our  bark  shack 
across  the  range,  but  I  don't  know  much  about  it.  The 
Indian's  at  my  ranch  and  can  hold  out  until  the  morn- 
ing. I  want  to  borrow  some  cartridges  and  food." 

"Why  of  course!"  said  Margaret  and  indicated  a 
chair.  "I'll  get  supper  ready.  Father's  at  the  depot, 
but  we  won't  wait  for  him." 

Jimmy  got  into  the  chair;  for  he  imagined  he  did 
not  sit  down  gracefully.  The  deerskin  was  soft  and 


174  NORTHWEST! 

his  head  went  back  against  the  rail.  Now  he  was  not 
forced  to  keep  going,  he  knew  he  was  very  tired.  Mar- 
garet began  to  move  about  and  by  and  by  he  asked: 
"Can't  I  help?" 

Margaret  looked  up  with  a  smile.  ''No,  Jimmy.  I 
have  not  much  use  for  the  help  you  could  give." 

Jimmy  was  satisfied  to  rest.  He  was  dull,  but  he 
liked  to  see  Margaret  break  up  the  fire  and  carry  about 
the  plates.  She  was  very  graceful  and  he  knew  her 
sympathetic,  but  this  was  not  all.  After  the  lonely 
bush,  the  ranch  kitchen,  lighted  by  the  snapping  flames, 
was  like  home.  When  supper  was  ready  it  cost  him 
something  of  an  effort  to  pull  around  his  chair,  and 
then  for  a  time  he  tried  to  conquer  his  savage  appetite. 
When  one  was  opposite  an  attractive  girl  one  did  not 
eat  like  a  wolf.  Margaret  knew  the  bush  and  smiled. 

"Isn't  the  food  good?     I  really  think  I  can  cook." 

'My  notion  is,  the  best  hotel  cook  in  Canada  could 
not  serve  a  supper  like  yours." 

"Very  well,"  said  Margaret.  "If  you  are  polite, 
you  will  annoy  me.  What  did  you  eat  in  the  bush?" 

"Salmon!  When  I  see  a  river,  I  want  to  go  the 
other  way." 

"Oh !"  said  Margaret    "You  ate  salmon  now  ?" 

"When  they  began  to  float  up  on  the  stones,  we 
stopped,"  Jimmy  replied. 

Margaret  was  moved.  She  knew  the  trackless  bush 
sometimes  was  cruel  and  all  who  felt  its  lure  did  not 
return.  Sometimes  one,  crossing  a  creek,  lost  a  load 
of  food,  and  sometimes  one's  rifle  jambed.  Then,  if 


USEFUL  FRIENDS  175 

the  march  to  the  settlements  were  long,  one  starved. 
Jimmy  had  not  starved,  but  he  was  worn  and  thin. 

"The  coffee's  very  good ;  may  I  have  some  more  ?" 
he  resumed.  "We  used  green  tea,  because  it's  light  and 
goes  far;  but  I  mustn't  bother  you  about  our  house- 
keeping. Do  you  know  if  the  police  have  brought  back 
the  game  warden  ?" 

"They  arrived  some  time  since  and  put  Douglas  on 
the  cars.  A  doctor  went  with  him " 

"Then  he's  alive  ?"  said  Jimmy,  with  keen  relief. 

"He  was  badly  hurt,  but  that  is  all  I  know,"  Mar- 
garet replied.  "Nobody  was  allowed  to  see  him " 

She  stopped  and  resumed  with  some  hesitation :  "Mr. 
Stannard's  packers  stated " 

Jimmy  gave  her  a  steady  glance.  "It  looks  as  if 
I  shot  Douglas;  in  the  dark,  I  thought  him  a  deer. 
You  did  not  imagine  I  meant  to  hurt  the  man  ?" 

"I  know  you  did  not,"  said  Margaret  in  a  quiet 
voice. 

"Very  well.  I  must  tell  you  all  I  know,  but  I'll 
wait  until  your  father  arrives.  Perhaps  he'll  see  a 
fresh  light.  Sometimes  I'm  puzzled " 

"You  mustn't  bother  to  talk,"  said  Margaret. 
"Turn  your  chair  to  the  fire  and  take  a  smoke." 

Jimmy  pulled  out  his  tobacco  pouch  and  frowned. 
Margaret  saw  the  pouch  was  flat  and  took  a  plug  of 
tobacco  from  a  shelf. 

"Wait  a  moment ;  don't  get  up,"  she  said  and  began 
to  cut  the  plug. 

For  a  few  moments  Jimmy  watched  her  with  dull 


176  NORTHWEST! 

satisfaction.  She  cut  the  tobacco  in  thin,  even  slices ; 
Jimmy  had  remarked  before  that  all  Margaret  did  was 
properly  done.  Although  it  was  nearly  dark,  she  had 
not  got  a  light,  and  red  and  yellow  reflections  from  the 
logs  played  about  the  room.  Sometimes  her  eyes  and 
hair  shone  and  her  face  stood  out  against  a  background 
of  shadow.  Jimmy  thought  the  picture  charming  and 
when  it  melted  he  waited  for  the  flames  to  leap  again, 
but  by  and  by  it  got  indistinct. 

"Give  me  your  pouch,"  said  Margaret  and  he  tried 
to  push  it  across. 

The  pouch  fell  from  the  table  and  his  pipe  went 
down.  His  head  leaned  to  one  side  and  found  the 
chair  rail,  and  he  knew  nothing  more. 

Margaret  heard  his  sigh  and  was  quiet.  Now  sleep 
smoothed  out  the  marks  of  strain  and  fatigue,  Jimmy's 
look  was  boyishly  calm.  He  moved  her  to  pity,  but 
he  moved  her  to  trust.  Margaret  was  not  a  raw,  ro- 
mantic girl;  she  knew  the  Canadian  cities  and  she  had 
studied  men.  If  Jimmy  had,  indeed,  shot  the  agent, 
a  strange  blunder  accounted  for  his  doing  so,  but  Mar- 
garet doubted.  She  had  some  grounds  to  think  the 
shot  another's.  Then  she  got  up  quietly  and  carried 
off  the  plates. 

Some  time  afterwards  Jardine  came  in  and,  seeing 
Jimmy,  stopped  and  turned  to  Margaret.  It  was  typ- 
ical that  he  said  nothing,  but  his  glance  was  keen.  Mar- 
garet smiled  and  in  a  low  voice  narrated  all  she  knew. 
Jardine  nodded,  and  sitting  down,  waited  until  Jimmy's 
head  slipped  from  the  chair  rail  and  the  jerk  woke  him 


USEFUL  FRIENDS  177 

up.  He  looked  about  as  if  he  were  puzzled,  and  thert 
said,  "Hello,  Mr.  Jardine!  I  didn't  understand  your 
sitting  opposite  me.  I  expect  I  was  asleep." 

"Sure  thing,"  Jardine  agreed  with  a  twinkle.  "We 
have  sortit  the  bit  back  room  for  ye  and  ye  had  better 
go  to  bed." 

"I'm  not  going  yet,"  said  Jimmy.  "I  want  a  smoke, 
but  my  tobacco's  run  out." 

Margaret  gave  him  his  pouch  and  he  smiled,  "The 
tobacco's  yours,  sir.  Miss  Jardine  is  very  kind.  Well, 
I  reckoned  on  her  kindness,  because  I  want  to  borrow  a 
quantity  of  truck,  but  we'll  talk  about  this  again.  Do 
you  know  where  Stannard  is?" 

"Stannard  and  his  daughter  are  at  the  hotel,"  Jar- 
dine  replied  and  looked  at  Jimmy  rather  hard.  "May- 
be he  feels  he  ought  to  stay  until  the  police  have  settled 
who  shot  warden  Douglas." 

"But  Stannard  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Jimmy 
replied. 

"He  was  leader  o*  your  party  and,  in  a  way,  account- 
able. Maybe  ye  ken  Okanagan  started  for  the  bush 
soon  after  ye  went?" 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  Jimmy  with  some  surprise. 
"Bob  claimed  he  hadn't  a  gun  and  I  think  he  had  not. 
Sometimes  I'm  puzzled,  but  I  really  think  the  unlucky 
shot  was  mine." 

"The  packers  allood  it  was  yours,  although  they 
werena  sure  how  many  shots  they  heard.  Can  ye 
locate  the  others'  stands?" 

"I  tried,   afterwards.     In  the  evenings  when  we 


178  NORTHWEST! 

camped  in  the  woods  I  speculated  about  the  accident," 
said  Jimmy,  and  pulling  out  a  few  small  objects  ar- 
ranged them  to  indicate  the  spots  the  sportsmen  had 
occupied.  "If  you  will  imagine  the  table's  the  clear- 
ing, Bob  posted  us  something  like  this.  Well,  I  expect 
the  warden  was  going  straight  for  my  stand  behind  the 
stump." 

"Ye're  thinking  aboot  the  bullet  mark  in  front," 
said  Jardine.  "The  packers  telt  me  aboot  it.  Did  ye 
see  the  other  mark  ?" 

"I  did  not,"  said  Jimmy  with  a  shiver.  "When  we 
carried  Douglas  to  the  house  I'd  had  enough.  But 
I  don't  see  where  you  lead." 

"If  the  mark  at  the  back  was  at  the  middle,  he  was 
going  straight  for  you.  Weel,  I'll  take  a  smoke " 

He  knitted  his  brows  and  for  some  minutes  quietly 
studied  Jimmy's  plan  of  the  clearing.  Then  he  said, 
"It's  no'  as  plain  as  it  looks,  but  the  packers  reckoned 
two  o'  the  police  who  went  in  with  the  doctor  were 
pretty  good  bushmen.  We  dinna  ken  what  they  think. 
Anyhow,  ye're  going  to  sleep  and  ought  to  go  to  bed." 

Jimmy  went  and  Jardine  resumed  his  study.  Mar- 
garet left  him  alone.  In  Scotland  her  father  was  a 
poacher;  in  the  Canadian  woods  his  rifle  supplied  the 
ranch  with  meat.  One  could  trust  his  judgment  about 
shooting.  By  and  by  he  looked  up. 

"If  Jimmy  has  fixed  their  stands  right,  it's  possible 
he  shot  Douglas  and  he  reckons  he  did  so.  That's 
something;  but  he  has  a  kind  o'  notion  he  heard  an- 


USEFUL  FRIENDS  179 

other  shot.  Weel,  the  lad's  a  tenderfoot.  Maybe 
he  was  excited  and  did  not  hold  straight." 

"Bob  would  not  get  excited  and  he  can  hit  a  jumping 
deer,"  said  Margaret. 

Jardine  nodded  meaningly.  "I've  thought  aboot 
Bob!  The  warden  was  after  him  and  he  lit  oot. 
There's  the  puzzle  for  the  police;  three  o'  the  party 
quit!" 

"Mr.  Deering  went  because  he  is  Jimmy's  friend," 
said  Margaret. 

"Just  that!  Ye  can  trust  the  big  fellow,"  Jardine 
agreed.  "Then,  if  he  was  where  Jimmy  puts  him, 
he  didna  shoot.  Stannard  stopped  and  it  looks  as  if 
he  had  nothing  to  do  wi'  it;  but  I  dinna  ken.  Stan- 
nard's  no'  a  man  ye  can  reckon  up,  and  a  line  from  his 
Stand  would  cut  the  warden's  track." 

"But  the  bullet  mark " 

Jardine  smiled.  "Jimmy,  and  maybe  the  trooper 
lad,  would  think  that  fixed  it,  but  he  didna  look  where 
the  bullet  cam'  oot.  I  wonder  if  Stannard  looked." 

"Bob  is  accountable,"  said  Margaret  obstinately. 

"Verra  weel.  Bob's  in  the  rocks.  Are  ye  for  track- 
ing the  man?" 

"By  and  by  he  must  come  down  for  food.  When  he 
does  come  down  we'll  try  to  find  him." 

"Bob's  a  good  bushman,"  Jardine  remarked.  "I 
alloo  the  police  will  not  hit  his  trail,  but  maybe  he  will 
not  bother  to  watch  out  for  us—  He  stopped  and 
gave  Margaret  a  thoughtful  look  when  he  resumed: 


180  NORTHWEST! 

"Bob  would  reckon  to  find  out  who  shot  Douglas  is 
no'  our  job." 

"The  job  is  ours,"  said  Margaret  quietly,  but  Jar- 
dine  thought  the  blood  came  to  her  skin.  She,  how- 
ever, got  up  and  when  she  had  put  out  the  plates  for 
breakfast  went  to  bed. 

In  the  morning  Jardine  gave  Jimmy  boots  and 
clothes,  and  two  days  afterwards  loaded  him  with  all 
the  supplies  he  would  carry.  After  breakfast  Jimmy 
strapped  on  his  pack,  but  when  he  was  ready  to  go  he 
hesitated.  The  loghouse  was  warm  and  home-like, 
and  for  two  days  he  had  rested  and  enjoyed  Margaret's 
society.  Now  he  must  plunge  into  the  wilds,  he 
frowned.  The  snow  was  creeping  down  the  rocks 
and  a  cold  wind  wailed  in  the  dark  pine-tops.  Then 
Jimmy  turned  to  his  hosts  and  forced  a  smile. 

"You  have  given  me  all  I  needed ;  I  knew  you  would 
see  me  out." 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Jardine.  "In  the  bush,  your 
friends'  job  is  to  see  ye  oot." 

"You  are  useful  friends,"  Jimmy  replied  with  a 
touch  of  emotion.  "All  the  same,  I  feel  I  ought  not 
to  bother  you;  I  ought  to  start  for  the  railroad  and 
give  myself  up  to  the  police.  If  Douglas  was  hurt  by 
my  carelessness,  I  ought  to  pay." 

"You  mustn't  go  yet,"  said  Margaret  firmly.  "You 
don't  altogether  know  the  carelessness  was  yours,  and 
perhaps  it  was  not.  Somehow  I  think  we  will  find 
out." 

"Ah,"  said  Jimmy,  "if  you  do  find  out  the  shot 


USEFUL  FRIENDS  181 

wasn't  mine But  I  doubt  and  the  dou'bt  weighs 

on  me." 

Margaret  smiled  and  gave  him  her  hand.  "Brace 
up  and  trust  your  luck !  Stop  in  the  mountains  until 
we  send  for  you.  Perhaps  we  will  send  for  you  sooner 
than  you  think." 

Jimmy  went  down  the  path  and  joined  the  waiting 
Indian.  He  was  comforted,  and  when  he  plunged 
into  the  woods  his  moodiness  was  gone.  Margaret 
went  back  into  the  house  and  Jardine  said  in  a  thought- 
ful voice,  "Ye  kind  o'  engaged  ye'd  send  for  the  lad ; 
but  until  ye  satisfy  the  police  he's  no'  their  man,  he 
canna  come  back." 

"That  is  so.  The  thing  is  rather  obvious,"  Margaret 
agreed  and  smiled.  "However,  since  I  did  engage  to 
send  for  Jimmy,  I  must  try  to  make  good." 


XX 

BOB'S   DENIAL 

long  after  Jimmy's  visit  to  Kelshope,  Mar- 
garet  one  evening  rode  up  the  trail  from  the 
station.  Her  cayuse  carried  a  load  of  groceries,  but 
when  she  set  off  her  object  was  not  altogether  to  bring 
home  supplies.  Wakening  before  daybreak,  she  imag- 
ined she  heard  the  fence-rails  rattle  at  the  corner 
farthest  from  the  house.  Sometimes  a  deer  jumped 
the  fence,  and  when  Margaret  got  up  she  went  to  the 
spot.  She  saw  no  tracks,  but  some  time  afterwards 
found  a  footmark  where  the  trail  left  the  clearing.  The 
mark  was  fresh  and  she  thought  it  was  not  made  by 
her  father's  boot. 

Margaret  said  nothing  to  Jardine.  Had  a  stranger 
come  down  the  valley,  he  would  have  kept  the  smooth 
path,  because  in  the  dark  the  belt  of  slashing  that  gen- 
erally surrounds  a  forest  ranch  is  an  awkward  ob- 
stacle. Moreover,  to  account  for  a  stranger's  coming 
from  the  mountains  was  hard.  Had  Jimmy  returned, 
he  would  have  stopped  at  the  house;  but  Bob  would 
not  and  Margaret  had  undertaken  to  find  Bob. 

When  the  Vancouver  train  rolled  into  the  station 
nobody  got  on  board,  but  a  police  trooper  came  from 
the  agent's  office,  and  going  along  the  line,  looked  into 

the  cars.     Margaret  had  not  remarked  him  before 

182 


BOB'S  DENIAL  183 

the  train  stopped  and  thought  his  curiosity  ominous. 
If  Bob  had  stolen  past  the  ranch,  he,  however,  had  not 
tried  to  get  on  board  and  was  hiding  somewhere  about. 
Margaret  was  puzzled  and  resolved  to  stop  at  the 
hotel  and  see  Stannard.  She  admitted  that  her  resolve 
was  perhaps  not  logical,  because  if  Stannard  knew 
more  about  the  shooting  than  others,  he  would  not  en- 
lighten her.  All  the  same,  she  meant  to  see  him. 

Getting  down  where  the  wagon  road  went  round 
to  the  front  of  the  hotel,  she  tied  her  horse  to  a  tree 
and  took  a  path  across  the  hill.  The  trees  were  thick, 
but  the  moon  was  bright  and  in  places  its  beams  pierced 
the  wood.  In  front  and  some  distance  above  her,  she 
saw  illuminated  windows  at  the  top  of  the  hotel ;  then 
the  terrace  wall  cut  the  reflection  from  the  drawing- 
room  and  rotunda.  The  high  wall  was  in  the  gloom, 
but  at  the  bottom  pools  of  silver  light  broke  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  trees.  Margaret  knew  the  steps  to  the 
terrace.  Had  she  gone  to  the  front  door,  she  must 
have  waited  at  the  office  until  a  page  brought  Stannard, 
and  she  thought  she  would  sooner  find  him  in  the 
rotunda  before  he  knew  she  was  about. 

She  heard  music  in  the  drawing-room  and  some- 
body on  the  terrace  talking,  but  the  wall  was  high 
and  when  the  music  stopped  all  was  quiet.  In  the 
woods  one  lifts  one's  feet  with  mechanical  caution 
and  Margaret  was  a  rancher's  daughter.  Her  advance 
was  noiseless,  but  at  a  bend  of  the  path  she  stopped. 

A  few  yards  off,  a  man  stood  under  a  tree.  His 
back  was  to  Margaret,  but  the  dark  object  across  his 


184  NORTHWEST! 

shoulder  was  a  slung  rifle  and  she  thought  she  knew 
him.  Stannard  leaned  against  a  trunk  opposite.  He 
wore  dinner  dress  and  a  loose  light  coat.  He  was 
in  the  moonlight,  and  when  he  shook  his  head  Mar- 
garet thought  his  smile  ironical.  The  other's  pose 
was  stiff  and  his  fist  was  clenched.  Margaret  put  her 
hand  in  the  pocket  of  her  deerskin  coat  and  then 
moved  a  branch.  The  man  turned  and  his  hand  went 
to  his  rifle.  Margaret  heard  the  sling  rattle. 

"You  don't  want  your  gun,  Bob ;  I  know  you.  Be- 
sides, I've  got  a  pistol,"  she  said. 

Bob  swore  softly  and  Stannard  lifted  his  hat. 

"Aren't  you  rather  theatrical,  Miss  Jardine?  I 
imagined  gun  pulling  was  out  of  date." 

"Bob's  theatrical;  but  he's  slow,"  Margaret  rejoined, 
and  although  her  heart  beat  her  voice  was  steady.  "I 
haven't  yet  pulled  my  gun." 

"It  looks  as  if  you  had  better  leave  yours  alone," 
Stannard  remarked  to  Bob. 

Bob's  face  got  very  dark,  but  Stannard  smiled. 

"Did  you  want  to  see  me  or  the  other,  Miss  Jar- 
dine?" 

"I  want  to  see  Bob  first,  but  you  may  remain," 
said  Margaret  and  gave  Bob  a  searching  glance.  "Who 
shot  warden  Douglas?" 

"I  did  not,  anyhow,"  Bob  replied  fiercely.  "I  hadn't 
a  gun  and  when  I'd  fixed  the  others  I  put  out  my 
lamp.  I'd  no  use  for  using  the  pit-light.  The  fool 
plan  was  Deering's." 

"All  the  same,  you  quit!" 


BOB'S  DENIAL  185 

"I  sure  quit.  Somebody  shot  Douglas  and  the  po- 
lice knew  he'd  got  a  pick  on  me.  They'd  got  to  put 
the  shooting  on  one  of  the  gang." 

"Perhaps  it's  important  the  police  knew  you  had 
a  pick  on  Douglas,"  Stannard  remarked. 

"For  all  that,  I  didn't  use  my  gun,"  Bob  rejoined. 

Margaret  pondered.  As  a  rule,  Bob  was  marked 
by  a  rather  sinister  quietness,  but  now  he  talked  with 
something  like  passion.  He  had  stepped  forward  and 
a  moonbeam  touched  his  face.  Margaret  thought  he 
knew,  but  he  did  not  move  out  of  the  light.  Somehow 
she  felt  she  must  believe  his  statement.  Then  Stan- 
nard turned  to  her. 

"Perhaps  it's  strange,  but  I  rather  think  he  speaks 
the  truth." 

"If  you  did  not  use  your  gun,  who  did  shoot  Doug- 
las?" Margaret  resumed,  looking  at  Bob.  "I  want 
to  know.  A  trooper's  watching  the  station,  and  if  I 
shout,  the  hotel  clerk  will  call  him  on  the  'phone." 

Bob's  passion  vanished  and  Margaret  thought  his 
calm  ominous. 

"That's  another  thing!  Looks  as  if  Jimmy  plugged 
the  fellow.  He  sort  of  allowed  he  done  it  and  he 
started  for  the  rocks." 

"I  imagine  Bob  doesn't  know,"  said  Stannard.  "Be- 
fore you  arrived  he  implied  that  I  was  accountable 
and  demanded  a  hundred  dollars.  In  fact,  when  he 
didn't  get  the  sum  he  was  much  annoyed." 

"I  was  mad  all  right,"  Bob  agreed.  "My  flour  and 
tea's  gone,  and  I  can't  hire  up  about  the  settlements, 


186  NORTHWEST! 

but  if  I'd  a  hundred  dollars,  I'd  try  to  make  the  coast." 
He  looked  hard  at  Stannard  and  resumed :  "Are  you 
going  to  help  me  get  off?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Stannard  in  a  careless  voice. 
"I  am  not  as  rich  as  you  think,  and  to  give  you  money 
would  be  rash,  particularly  when  Miss  Jardine  is 
about." 

Margaret  pulled  out  her  wallet.  "I  can  give  you 
ten  dollars,  Bob;  but  I  can  shout  to  the  people  at  the 
hotel.  You  know  Mr.  Leyland  did  not  shoot 
Douglas." 

"I  sure  don't  know,"  said  Bob  and  gave  Margaret 
a  haughty  glance.  "Put  up  your  wad;  I've  no  use  for 
your  money.  If  you  like,  shout  for  them  to  'phone 
the  police." 

For  a  moment  or  two  Margaret  hesitated.  She  was 
persuaded  Bob  himself  was  not  accountable,  but  she 
thought  this  was  all  she  would  know.  She  was  hurt 
and  humiliated,  for  now  she  had  found  Bob  she  had 
not  helped  Jimmy  much. 

"Shall  I  shout?"  she  asked  Stannard. 

"To  choose  is  your  part.  I  rather  think  Dillon  is 
on  the  terrace  and  two  or  three  athletic  young  sports- 
men are  at  the  hotel,  but  unless  you  are  willing  to  use 
your  gun,  I  doubt  if  Bob  would  wait  until  the  others 
arrive.  Then,  although  I  don't  know  where  Jimmy  is, 
perhaps  for  the  police  to  search  the  neighborhood  would 
have  some  drawbacks." 

Margaret  turned  to  Bob.  "Get  off!  If  you  come 
back,  I'll  send  the  troopers  after  you." 


BOB'S  DENIAL  187 

Bob  went,  and  when  he  vanished  in  the  gloom  Stan- 
nard  laughed.  "I  expect  your  arrival  disturbed  the 
fellow.  At  the  beginning,  he  tried  to  force  me  to  give 
him  my  wallet;  then  he  took  another  line  and  hinted 
that  Leyland  was  the  guilty  man.  Well,  he  has  gone. 
Will  you  come  back  with  me  and  talk  to  Laura  ?" 

Margaret  noted  that  he  was  not  curious  about  her 
object  for  stopping  at  the  hotel,  but  she  said,  "I  wanted 
to  see  you.  What  do  you  know  about  the  accident?" 

"I  really  don't  know  much,  although  I  am  persuaded 
accident  is  the  proper  word.  Jimmy  thought  the  un- 
lucky shot  was  his  and  when  he  resolved  to  go  off  I 
agreed." 

"But  you  knew  what  the  police  would  think  about 
his  running  away!" 

"That  is  so,"  said  Stannard  coolly.  "All  the  same, 
Jimmy  was  with  me  when  I  killed  the  big-horn,  and 
when  Douglas  found  us  at  the  old  ranch  we  were  using 
pit-lights.  One  of  our  party  shot  him,  and  since  we 
were  again  poaching,  it  hardly  looked  as  if  the  shot 
were  accidental.  Jimmy  is  young  and  when  he  saw 
the  risk  he  ran  he  was  afraid.  I  thought  he  did  run 
some  risk,  but,  if  he  could  cheat  the  police  for  a  time, 
we  might  find  a  clue  to  the  puzzle." 

Margaret  remarked  his  frankness.  Although  she 
thought  he  did  not  know  Jimmy  had  stopped  at  the 
ranch,  his  arguments  were  the  arguments  Jimmy 
stated  he  had  used.  Moreover,  she  admitted  the  argu- 
ments carried  some  weight. 

"We  have  not  yet  found  a  clue,"  she  said  drearily. 


188  NORTHWEST! 

"Still,  if  the  warden  gets  better Do  you  know 

where  he  is?" 

For  a  moment  or  two  Stannard  was  quiet.  Then 
he  said,  "We  can  get  no  news  about  Douglas,  and  per- 
haps we  ought  not  to  expect  much  from  his  narrative. 
When  you  use  a  pit-lamp  your  hat-brim  shades  your 
face,  and  I  imagine  all  Douglas  saw  was  the  light. 
Yet  the  police's  reserve  is  strange." 

"Perhaps  they  know  something  we  do  not,"  said 
Margaret.  "Well,  my  father  is  waiting  and  I  must 
not  stop." 

She  went  off  and  Stannard  went  up  the  steps  to 
the  hotel.  In  a  corner  of  the  veranda  Dillon  talked 
to  Laura,  and  Stannard  remarked  the  smile  she  gave 
the  young  man.  Stannard  knitted  his  brows  and  did 
not  stop.  In  some  respects,  the  marriage  would  be 
good,  but  it  was  not  the  marriage  he  had  wanted 
Laura  to  make.  All  the  same,  Jimmy  was  obviously 
satisfied  with  the  bush  girl  and  Stannard  thought  she 
loved  him.  Well,  he  had  done  with  Jimmy. 

When  Margaret  got  down  at  the  ranch  she  went  to 
the  kitchen  and  sat  by  the  fire.  For  a  time  she  said 
nothing  and  Jardine  quietly  smoked  his  pipe.  Then 
she  looked  up  with  a  frown. 

"I  found  Bob,"  she  said.  "He  was  talking  to  Mr. 
Stannard  outside  the  hotel." 

"In  the  trees,  I'm  thinking!    Did  he  tell  ye  much?" 

"He  declared  when  they  used  the  pit-lights  he  had 
not  a  gun  and  somehow  I  think  he  hadn't." 


BOB'S  DENIAL  189 

"Maybe!"  said  Jardine,  with  some  dryness.  "Was 
it  all  ye  got?" 

"That  was  all.  I'm  not  as  clever  as  I  thought.  Bob 
wanted  Mr.  Stannard  to  give  him  a  hundred  dollars." 

"Ah !"  said  Jardine.    "Weel,  I  expect  ye  see " 

"Stannard  laughed.  It  was  plain  he  was  not  at  all 
afraid  of  Bob." 

"Stannard's  no'  a  fool,"  Jardine  remarked. 

"I  thought  his  carelessness  sincere.  Besides,  Bob 
soon  afterwards  implied  that  Jimmy  hit  Douglas.  I 
imagine  Bob  really  doesn't  know  who  did  use  his  gun." 

"It's  possible,"  Jardine  agreed.  "My  notion  is, 
Jimmy  had  better  keep  the  woods.  In  the  meantime, 
I've  no  use  for  Bob's  hanging  round  the  ranch." 

"Bob  will  not  bother  us;  I  don't  think  he'll  bother 
Mr.  Stannard  again,"  said  Margaret  and  got  some 
sewing. 


XXI 

DEERING'S  EXCURSION 

AIN  beat  the  bark  roof  and  heavy  drops  splashed 
on  the  floor.  Sometimes  a  gust  of  wind  swept 
the  window  opening  and  smoke  blew  about,  but  on 
the  whole  the  shack  was  dry  and  warm.  Jimmy 
thought  they  had  made  a  good  job,  and  sitting  by  the 
fire,  he  tranquilly  smoked  his  pipe.  The  Indian,  oppo- 
site him,  plaited  a  snare;  Deering  studied  a  card  prob- 
lem in  an  old  newspaper. 

"The  game's  pretty  good,  but  I  soon  got  on  to  it," 

he  said.  "When  you  locate  the  bower Come  across 

and  I'll  show  you." 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Jimmy,  smiling.  "To  know 
where  the  bower  is,  is  useful,  but  sometimes  you  don't 
know  and  a  ten-spot  knocks  you  out.  Things  are  like 
that.  Anyhow  I've  not  much  use  for  cards." 

"You  were  keen.  I  reckon  your  keenness  cost  you 
something!" 

Jimmy  nodded.  "That  is  so;  but  I  really  think  I 
wanted  to  satisfy  my  curiosity.  I  wanted  the  thrills 
others  seemed  to  get,  and  I  experimented  with  cards 
and  two  or  three  expensive  sports.  Now  I  feel  I'd 
sooner  build  a  shack  than  win  a  pot  of  money  on  a  first- 
class  race.  The  strange  thing  is,  when  I  was  at  the 

190 


DEERING'S  EXCURSION  191 

cotton  mill  and  Dick  wanted  me  to  study  the  machin- 
ery, I  was  bored." 

"I  expect  he  tried  to  force  you,"  Deering  remarked. 
"When  one  is  young  one  doesn't  study  the  things  oth- 
ers think  one  ought "  He  frowned  and  jerked 

his  head.  "Another  blamed  big  drop  on  the  back  of 
my  neck!" 

"When  the  rain  stops  I'll  mend  the  roof,"  said 
Jimmy.  "The  shack's  a  pretty  good  shack  and  two 
or  three  slabs  of  bark  will  cure  the  leak.  Then  I  must 
get  some  green  clay  and  flat  stones  for  the  chimney." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  meant  to  remain  in  the  rocks !" 

"It  looks  as  if  I  might  have  to  stay  for  some  time." 

Deering  shook  his  head.  "In  a  proper  cold  snap 
you  want  double  windows,  but  we  have  got  a  hole. 
Then  I've  not  much  use  for  a  blanket  door.  When  the 
frost  begins  we  have  got  to  quit." 

"But  where  can  we  go?" 

"I  don't  know  yet ;  I  have  thought  about  your  ranch. 
Jardine  stated  the  police  had  searched  it,  and  I  reckon 
they  won't  come  back.  However,  we'll  talk  about  this 
again.  I  think  Miss  Jardine  gave  you  a  needle  and 
thread?" 

Jimmy  said  Margaret  had  done  so  and  inquired  why 
Deering  wanted  the  thread. 

"We  can't  get  out  and  I  guess  I'll  sew  my  clothes 
for  you.  In  the  morning  I'm  going  to  use  Jardine's." 

"But  why "  Jimmy  began. 

Deering  indicated  his  torn  shooting-jacket,  ragged 
knickerbockers,  and  soil-stained  puttees. 


192  NORTHWEST! 

"I  must  start  for  Vancouver,  to  look  up  a  fellow  who 
has  got  some  money  of  mine.  Then  I  want  to  find 
out  if  the  police  have  cured  Douglas  and  what  they 
are  doing.  If  I  wore  my  clothes,  people  would  specu- 
late about  the  dead-broke  sporting  guy." 

"Jardine's  clothes  are  not  very  good;  I've  worn 
them  for  some  time  in  the  bush.  Then  I  expect  you'll 
find  them  tight." 

"They're  a  rancher's  clothes  and  I  don't  mind  look- 
ing like  a  bushman.  In  fact,  until  I  make  Vancouver, 
the  part  will  go  all  right." 

Jimmy  knitted  his  brows.  Perhaps  he  had  thought 
too  much  for  himself,  but  he  owned  he  did  not  want 
Deering  to  leave  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  mustn't  grumble.  But  will  you 
be  long?" 

"When  I've  fixed  my  business  and  found  out  some- 
thing useful  I'll  come  right  back,"  Deering  replied  and 
threading  the  needle  began  to  sew.  "I  was  raised  in 
the  bush  and  the  small  homesteaders  are  a  pretty  frugal 
lot.  They  don't  throw  away  their  old  clothes." 

"When  you  reach  the  settlements,  won't  you  run 
some  risk?"  Jimmy  inquired. 

"I  expect  the  risk  will  not  be  altogether  mine.  So 
far  as  I  know,  the  police  are  not  looking  for  me.  The 
trouble  is,  I  might  put  them  on  your  track ;  but  so  long 
as  I'm  steering  for  the  coast  this  needn't  bother  us. 
I  don't  want  them  to  hit  my  trail  when  I'm  coming 
back.  Well,  I'm  pretty  big  to  hide,  but  if  they  are 


DEERING'S  EXCURSION  193 

after  me,  they'll  watch  out  for  a  city  sport,  not  a  bush- 
man." 

In  the  morning  Deering  started,  and  after  a  stren- 
uous journey  reached  a  small  station  some  distance 
from  the  hotel.  He  did  not  buy  his  ticket  from  the 
agent ;  the  conductor  would  supply  him,  and  when  the 
long  train  rolled  in  he  got  aboard.  The  porter  was 
making  up  the  second-class  berths  and  when  Deering 
got  his  he  went  to  bed.  So  far,  his  luck  was  good, 
but  after  he  had  slept  for  five  or  six  hours  he  began 
to  doubt. 

A  savage  jolt  threw  him  against  the  curtain,  and 
the  thin  material  tore  from  the  rings.  Deering  went 
through,  but  came  down  like  a  cat  on  the  floor.  The 
brakes  jarred  and  startled  passengers  ran  about.  For 
the  most  part,  they  did  not  wear  their  proper  clothes, 
but  when  Deering  went  to  bed  he  wore  all  his  and  he 
pushed  through  a  group  that  blocked  the  vestibule. 
The  train  stopped  and  from  the  platform  he  saw  a 
leaping  pillar  of  flame  and  reflections  on  rocks  and 
trees.  The  white  beam  from  the  locomotive  headlamp 
melted  in  the  strong  illumination,  and  moving  figures 
cut  the  dark  background.  The  picture  was  distinct 
and  vivid  like  a  scene  from  a  film,  until  a  cloud  of  steam 
rolled  across  the  light  and  all  was  blurred. 

Deering  heard  hammers  and  the  clang  of  rails.  A 
construction  gang  was  obviously  at  work  and  he  imag- 
ined a  trestle  had  broken  or  perhaps  another  train  had 
jumped  the  track.  When  he  waited  at  the  station, 


194  NORTHWEST! 

he  had  not  tried  to  hide  himself;  to  do  so  was  risky, 
since  he  imagined  the  police  had  warned  the  agent  to 
study  the  passengers.  If  the  agent  had  remarked  him, 
the  delay  would  be  awkward  and  he  wondered  whether 
the  telegraph  wires  were  broken. 

Jumping  down,  he  went  along  the  track  and  stopped 
in  the  strong  light  a  blast-lamp  threw  across  a  gap. 
The  road-bed  was  gone  and  a  great  bank  of  stones  and 
snow  rested  on  the  hillside.  Bent  rails  slanted  into 
the  hole  and  a  broken  telegraph  pole  hung  by  the  tan- 
gled wires.  Shovels  rattled  and  a  gang  of  men  threw 
down  soil  and  stones.  Deering  stopped  one. 

"How  long  is  it  since  the  land-slide  cut  the  track?" 
"About  two  hours  since  we  got  the  call." 
"Then,  they  rushed  you  up  pretty  quick.     I  expect 
you  got  the  call  by  wire?" 

The  other  indicated  the  broken  post.  "Wires  went 
when  the  track  went.  The  section  man  came  for  us 
on  a  trolley;  we're  grading  for  a  new  bridge  a  few 
miles  down  the  line." 

"Are  you  going  to  be  long  filling  her  up  ?" 
"Three  or  four  hours,  I  reckon.    The  boys  are  load- 
ing up  the  gravel  train.    But  if  the  boss  spots  me  talk- 
ing, I'll  get  fired." 

Deering  pondered.  If  the  agent  had  been  warned 
to  look  out  for  him,  the  fellow  had  had  time  to  tele- 
graph before  the  wires  broke,  and  the  police  could 
arrange  to  watch  the  stations  or  put  a  trooper  on  board 
the  train.  Deering  did  not  think  they  had  a  warrant 


DEERING'S  EXCURSION  195 

for  his  arrest,  but  they  would  try  to  use  him  in  order 
to  get  on  Jimmy's  track.  There  was  not  much  use 
in  leaving  the  train,  because  he  would  be  spotted  when 
he  boarded  another.  He  resolved  to  go  back  to  his 
berth  and  soon  after  he  did  so  he  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  the  train  started.  Deering  got  a 
good  breakfast  at  a  meal  station  and  afterwards  occu- 
pied a  corner  of  a  smoking  compartment.  Sleep  and 
food  had  refreshed  him  and  his  mood  was  cheerful. 
He  admitted  he  was  perhaps  ridiculous,  but  he  had  be- 
gun to  enjoy  his  excursion;  Deering  was  marked  by 
a  vein  of  rather  boyish  humor  and  to  cheat  the  police 
amused  him.  By  and  by  he  speculated  about  his  object 
for  going  after  Jimmy  when  the  warden  was  shot. 

Jimmy  had  plunged  into  the  gully  sooner  than  let 
him  go,  but  perhaps  this  did  not  account  for  all.  Stan- 
nard  had  urged  Jimmy  to  push  for  the  plains,  although 
Stannard  ought  to  know  the  lad  could  not  cross  the 
mountains.  Then  he  had  indicated  a  line  over  the 
neck  and  Deering  had  stopped  Jimmy  at  the  top  of  a 
pitch  that  dropped  to  a  horrible  crevasse.  The  thing 
was  strange  and  sinister,  but  Jimmy  trusted  Stannard. 
Deering  did  not.  He  was  intrigued,  and  felt  he  ought 
to  see  Jimmy  out. 

After  a  time  a  police  trooper  came  from  the  vestibule 
and  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  the  smoking 
compartment.  His  glance  rested  carelessly  on  Deering, 
and  then  he  went  through  into  the  car.  At  the  next 
station  the  policeman  got  down  and  went  to  the  office. 


196  NORTHWEST! 

When  the  train  started  Deering  did  not  see  him  get  on 
board,  but  people  moved  about  and  the  end  cars  were 
behind  the  water  tank. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  he  leaned  back,  half  asleep, 
in  his  corner,  the  trooper  came  in  again.  Deering  did 
not  move,  but  his  eyes  were  not  altogether  shut  and 
he  saw  the  fellow's  glance  was  keen  and  fixed.  In  a 
moment  or  two  the  trooper  turned  his  head,  and  going 
into  the  vestibule,  did  not  shut  the  door  quietly.  Deer- 
ing's  curiosity  was  satisfied ;  the  police  knew  he  was  on 
board. 

Lighting  his  pipe,  he  looked  out  of  the  window. 
The  train  was  speeding  down  the  lower  Fraser  valley. 
Orchards,  fields  with  white  snake-fences,  and  wooden 
homesteads  rolled  by.  The  sun  was  near  the  hilltops 
and  the  shadows  of  the  pines  were  long.  When  they 
reached  Vancouver  it  would  be  dark  and  the  trooper's 
duties  would  be  undertaken  by  the  municipal  police. 
The  Royal  North- West  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
British-Columbian  cities;  their  business  was  in  the 
wilds. 

Deering  pulled  out  his  watch.  A  short  distance  from 
Vancouver  they  would  stop  at  a  junction  where  a  line 
for  Washington  State  branched  off,  but  his  business 
was  not  in  Washington. 

Fast  steamers  sailed  from  Vancouver  for  the  ports 
on  Puget  Sound,  and  since  the  police  would  expect 
him  to  go  on  board,  he  thought  he  saw  a  plan.  Some 
time  after  dark  he  went  to  the  platform  in  front  of  the 
car.  A  half-moon  shone  between  slow-moving  clouds 


DEERING'S  EXCURSION  197 

and  he  saw  vague  hills  and  sparkling  water.  Then  the 
lights  of  anchored  steamers  began  to  twinkle  and  saw- 
mill chimney  stacks' cut  the  sky.  Lights  in  rows  and 
clusters  marked  the  front  of  a  low  hill,  the  cars  rolled 
along  the  waterside,  and  presently  stacks  of  lumber 
blocked  the  view.  Then  the  whistle  screamed,  the 
brakes  jarred,  and  the  passengers  began  to  push  out 
from  the  vestibule. 

Deering  jumped  down  and  looked  about.  Freight 
cars  occupied  the  tracks  and  the  dazzling  beam  from  a 
locomotive's  headlamp  touched  piles  of  goods  and  hur- 
rying people.  Round  the  tall  electric  standards  were 
pools  of  light,  but  smoke  and  steam  blew  about  the 
wharf  and  where  the  strong  illumination  was  cut  off 
all  was  dark.  Bells  tolled,  wheels  rattled,  and  the 
clang  of  the  steamer's  winches  pierced  the  din.  Her 
double  row  of  passenger  decks  towered  above  the 
wharf,  and  Deering  joined  the  crowd  at  the  slanted 
gangway.  He  was  willing  for  the  city  police  to  see 
him  board  the  steamer. 

At  the  top  of  the  gangway  a  steward  indicated  the 
way  to  the  second-class  deck,  but  Deering  pushed  by 
and  went  to  the  saloon.  Since  he  was  playing  a  bush 
rancher's  part,  the  police  would  expect  him  to  travel 
second  class,  and  he  must  for  a  few  minutes  put  them 
off  his  track.  As  soon  as  the  luggage  was  on  board, 
the  boat  would  start. 

For  the  most  part,  the  people  were  on  deck,  and  the 
spacious  saloon  was  quiet.  Deering  thought  he  did 
not  look  like  a  first-class  passenger.  His  hair  was 


198  NORTHWEST! 

long,  his  hat  was  battered,  and  Jardine's  rather  ragged 
clothes  were  tight  on  his  big  body.  Searching  the  room 
with  a  keen  glance,  he  stopped,  for  a  group  of  three 
people  occupied  a  seat  at  the  other  end.  He  wondered 
whether  he  ought  to  steal  off,  but  Dillon  jumped  up. 

"Why,  it's  Deering!"  he  exclaimed. 

Laura  started  and  her  companion  turned.  Deering 
imagined  the  lady  was  Mrs.  Dillon  and  he  crossed 
the  floor.  Dillon's  surprise  was  obvious,  but  he  gave 
Deering  his  hand. 

"We  have  been  bothered  about  you  for  some  time 
and  it  looks  as  if  you  had  got  up  against  it.  But 
where's  Jimmy?" 

"Jimmy's  at  the  shack  we  built  in  the  rocks.  What 
about  the  warden?" 

"We  can  get  no  news.  I  imagine  the  police  are 
hiding  the  fellow." 

"Why  did  you  leave  Jimmy?"  Laura  interrupted,  and 
Deering  saw  she  did  not  altogether  trust  him.  "Has 
he  food  and  proper  clothes?  If  he  is  in  trouble,  we 
must  try  to  help." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Dillon.  "If  Jimmy  wants  me, 
I'll  get  off  the  boat." 

"Jimmy's  clothes  are  worse  than  mine,  but  he  doesn't 
particularly  want  your  help.  I  pulled  out  because  I 
must  transact  some  business,  and  I've  pretty  good 
grounds  to  imagine  the  police  are  on  my  track." 

"I  expect  we'll  sail  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Dillon. 
"Do  you  think  the  police  know  you  got  on  board?" 

Deering  glanced  at  the  others.     He  thought  Laura 


DEERING'S  EXCURSION  199 

imagined  he  had  meant  to  join  them  and  she  was  not 
yet  satisfied.  Mrs.  Dillon  was  frankly  annoyed. 

"So  long  as  they  don't  know  I  got  off  again,  it's 
not  important,"  he  replied. 

"Are  you  going  to  get  off?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Deering  and  turned  to  Laura  with 
a  twinkle.  "The  trick  is  not  remarkably  fresh,  but 
since  the  police  reckon  I'm  bound  for  the  United  States, 
it  ought  to  work.  You  see,  Jimmy's  my  friend,  and 
when  I've  put  across  my  business  I'm  going  back." 

Laura  gave  him  her  hand.  "I  didn't  know — I  wish 
you  luck!  When  you  think  we  can  help,  you  must 
send  us  a  letter." 

The  whistle  blew,  a  bell  rang,  and  people  began  to 
enter  the  saloon. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Stannard,"  said  Deering  and 
crossed  the  floor. 

He  went  along  an  alley  and  through  the  second-class 
saloon  to  the  deck  in  front.  The  steamer's  bows  were 
in  the  gloom  and  a  number  of  wharf-hands  hurried 
down  a  plank.  Deering  joined  the  row  and  followed 
the  men  to  a  cargo  shed.  The  shed  was  dark,  but 
the  sliding  doors  on  the  other  side  were  open  and  he 
crawled  under  a  freight  car  and  crossed  the  track.  A 
minute  or  two  afterwards  he  stopped.  So  far  as  he 
could  see,  nobody  but  a  few  train-hands  were  about; 
the  steamer  had  swung  away  from  the  wharf  and  was 
steering  for  the  Narrows.  Deering  laughed  and  went 
up  the  hill  behind  the  water-front. 


XXII 

DEERING    TAKES    COUNSEL 

A  CANADIAN  hotel  is  something  of  an  inexpensive 
•*  *•  club.  People  who  sleep  elsewhere  come  for  meals, 
and  a  number  come  to  smoke  and  talk.  In  Western 
towns  their  manners  and  clothes  are  marked  by  sharp 
contrasts,  but  so  long  as  they  observe  a  few  primitive 
rules,  nobody  inquires  if  they  are  customers  of  the 
house. 

In  consequence,  when  Deering  stopped  in  front  of 
an  ambitious  building  he  was  not  at  all  embarrassed. 
The  noise  he  heard  indicated  that  the  rotunda  was 
occupied,  but  while  some  of  its  occupants  were,  no 
doubt,  important  citizens,  he  expected  to  find  lumber- 
men and  miners  from  the  bush  whose  clothes  were 
like  his.  Pushing  round  the  revolving  doors,  he  went 
in,  waited  until  he  saw  the  clerk  was  engaged,  and 
then  went  upstairs.  A  noisy  electric  elevator  was  run- 
ning, but  Deering  thought  he  would  not  bother  the  boy. 

On  the  second  landing  he  opened  a  door.  An  electric 
lamp  threw  a  strong  light  about  the  room,  and  a  gen- 
tleman leaned  back  in  a  hardwood  chair  and  rested  his 
feet  on  the  ornamental  radiator.  He  was  dressed  like 
a  prosperous  citizen,  and  he  gave  Deering  a  keen  glance. 

"Hello !"  he  said.     "Have  you  been  in  the  woods  ?" 

"Looks  like  that!"  said  Deering.     "I  want  a  razor 
200 


DEERING  TAKES  COUNSEL        201 

and  a  bath;  then  I  want  a  suit  of  clothes,  the  biggest 
standard  size.  I  doubt  if  the  clerk  and  bell-boys  saw 
a  bushman  come  up,  but  if  they  did  so,  I'd  sooner  they 
didn't  see  him  come  down." 

"I  can  fix  you,"  said  the  other,  smiling.  "All  the 
same,  I  expect  you  must  get  a  barber  to  finish  the  job." 

When  Deering  used  a  glass  he  admitted  that  his 
friend's  remark  was  justified,  but  so  long  as  he  looked 
like  a  wild  man  from  the  woods,  to  recline,  wrapped  in 
a  white  sheet,  in  a  barber's  front  window  had  obvious 
drawbacks.  As  a  rule,  a  North  American  barber  car- 
ries on  his  occupation  as  publicly  as  possible.  He  got 
a  bath,  and  when  he  returned  to  his  friend's  room 
Neilson  gave  him  a  cigar  and  they  began  to  talk. 

"Very  well,"  said  Neilson,  "I  can  get  the  money  for 
you  and  will  soon  fix  up  the  other  matters.  I  have  sent 
for  some  clothes  and  booked  your  room.  But  you  look 
as  if  you'd  hit  some  adventures  in  the  woods,  and  I'd 
rather  like  to  know " 

"Perhaps  you  noted  something  in  the  newspapers 
about  a  game-warden's  getting  shot  ?" 

"The  Colonist  printed  a  short  paragraph ;  I  imagined 
the  police  edited  the  story.  Old  man  Salter  knows  his 
job,  although  the  shooting  was  on  the  Royal  North- 
West's  ground.  Anyhow,  the  tale  left  you  to  guess. 
But  were  you  in  it  ?" 

"Sure  thing,"  said  Deering,  dryly.  "I'll  tell  you— 

When  he  finished  his  narrative,  Neilson  knitted  his 
brows.  He  was  frankly  an  adventurer,  but  he  had  his 
code  and  Deering  trusted  the  fellow.  Moreover,  Neil- 


202  NORTHWEST! 

son  knew  men,  and  particularly  men  who  lived  by 
exploiting  others'  weaknesses. 

"I'm  not  a  hunter.  We'll  cut  out  the  shooting  and 
concentrate  on  the  gang,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  get 
Stannard  right.  His  occupation's  ours?" 

"Something  like  ours,"  Deering  agreed.  "We  play 
a  straight  game,  because  we  know  a  straight  game 
pays;  I've  spotted  Stannard  using  a  crook's  cheap 
trick.  But  he  doesn't  bet  high  at  cards.  His  line's 
financing  extravagant  young  suckers." 

"Then,  he's  rich?" 

"I  think  not.  Not  long  since  he  wanted  money. 
My  notion  is,  he's  got  a  partner  in  the  Old  Country 
who  supplies  him.  Stannard's  something  of  a  high- 
brow and  a  smart  clubman.  He  has  qualities I 

rather  like  the  fellow,  although  I  know  him." 

"What  about  the  girl  ?    Does  Stannard  use  her  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Deering.  "Miss  Laura's  straight; 
I  doubt  if  she  really  knows  her  father's  occupation. 
Maybe  she's  ambitious  and  calculating,  but  she's  not 
his  sort" 

"Is  Leyland  much  in  Stannard's  debt?" 

"Stannard's  an  expensive  friend;  but  I  guess  he 
wanted  Jimmy  for  Laura  and  didn't  take  all  he  might. 
Still  I  expect  Jimmy  owes  a  useful  sum,  and  Laura's 
going  to  marry  Dillon." 

"Ah,"  said  Neilson,  "perhaps  that's  important!  I 
reckon  Stannard  has  got  Leyland  insured?" 

Deering  nodded.  He  saw  where  Neilson's  remarks 
led  and  on  the  whole  agreed.  He  had  given  the  fellow 


DEERING  TAKES  COUNSEL        203 

his  confidence  because  he  wanted  to  see  the  arguments 
another  would  use. 

"Well,"  resumed  Neilson,  "what  about  Dillon  and 
your  guide?" 

"Dillon  was  not  in  the  woods.  I  don't  know  much 
about  the  guide.  Bob's  a  queer  fellow  and  is  not  all 
white.  Then  he  has  a  pick  on  Jimmy.  I  reckon  he 
took  a  shine  to  the  rancher's  daughter  who  is  now 
Jimmy's  girl." 

"Jealousy  bites  hard,  and  I  wouldn't  trust  a  breed," 
Neilson  remarked.  "Well,  perhaps  we  have  got  Bob's 
object;  let's  study  Stannard's.  Ley  land's  wanting  the 
ranch  girl  wasn't  in  his  plan,  and  when  he  knew  Miss 
Stannard  meant  to  marry  Dillon  he'd  make  another. 
Leyland  owes  him  much,  can't  pay  yet,  and  is  insured. 
Let  it  go  in  the  meantime,  and  weigh  another  thing. 
Leyland  doesn't  altogether  know  if  he  shot  the  warden, 
but  if  he  did  shoot  him,  he  thought  him  a  deer.  All 
the  same,  he  pulled  out!  Is  the  boy  a  fool?  Is  his 
nerve  weak?" 

"Jimmy's  clean  grit,"  said  Deering.  "Still  he  is  a 
boy." 

"Then  it's  possible  he  got  rattled.  Suppose  when 
he  was  rattled  an  older  man  he  trusted  put  it  up  to 
him  that  he  ought  to  light  out?  The  kid  wouldn'* 
ponder;  he'd  start." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Deering.  "Stannard  did  talk  like 
that." 

Neilson  shrugged  meaningly.  "Very  well!  I'm 
through  with  my  argument.  If  we  could  find  warden 


204  NORTHWEST! 

Douglas,  he  might  tell  us  something  useful.     I'll  try." 

Deering  thought  the  plan  good.  Neilson  was  a 
gambler,  but  his  word  went;  in  fact,  Deering  imag- 
ined it  sometimes  went  with  the  police.  Neilson  knew 
the  half -world,  and  now  that  he  had  undertaken  an 
awkward  job  strange  helpers  would  be  put  to  work. 

When  he  had  lighted  a  fresh  cigar  he  resumed :  "I 
don't  see  your  object  for  hiding  in  the  woods." 

"Sometimes  I'm  romantic;  you  don't  know  me  yet," 
Deering  said,  and  laughed.  "Jimmy's  my  pal;  when 
I  came  near  getting  a  fall  that  would  have  knocked  me 
out,  he  held  me  up.  Then  I  was  born  a  bushman  and 
the  bush  calls.  I  like  it  in  the  woods  and  I'm  keen 

about  the  detective  game "  He  stopped  and  went 

on  in  a  thoughtful  voice :  "The  strange  thing  is,  when 
Jimmy  went  over  the  rocks,  Stannard  went  after  him. 
Snow  and. stones  were  coming  down,  but  he  stayed  with 
the  kid." 

"That  was  when  it  looked  as  if  Miss  Stannard 
would  marry  your  pal!"  said  Neilson  meaningly. 
"Well,  I  wouldn't  bother  about  the  police.  Watch  out 
for  Stannard " 

Somebody  knocked  at  the  door  and  Neilson,  getting 
up,  came  back  with  a  parcel. 

"Your  clothes,"  he  said. 

Deering  put  on  the  clothes  and  packed  up  Jardine's 
to  be  thrown  into  the  harbor.  For  a  few  days  he 
stopped  at  the  hotel,  and  then  Neilson  admitted  that 
his  inquiries  about  Douglas  had  not  carried  him  far. 

"We  know  where  he  is  and  he's  very  sick,  but  that's 


DEERING  TAKES  COUNSEL        205 

all,"  he  said.     "The  police  mean  to  use  him  and  he 
can't  be  got  at." 

"Then,  I'll  start  for  the  woods,"  said  Deerin^.  "The 
trouble  is  to  hit  the  proper  line.  It's  possible  the  police 
are  willing  to  leave  me  alone,  but  I  mustn't  help  them 
get  on  to  Jimmy." 

In  the  morning  he  started  for  New  Westminster, 
although  this  was  not  the  line  to  the  mountains.  At 
Westminster  he  vanished  in  the  meadows  along  the 
Fraser,  and  after  a  time  turned  north  into  the 
woods.  In  order  to  rejoin  Jimmy,  he  must  follow 
the  great  river  gorge,  and  at  Mission  he  risked  getting 
on  board  the  cars.  Nobody  bothered  him,  and  at 
length  he  labored  one  evening  up  the  rugged  valley 
in  which  was  the  shack.  He  had  bought  a  skin  coat 
and  carried  a  heavy  pack,  but  he  was  not  warm.  The 
sky  was  dark  and  threatening,  the  ground  was  hard, 
and  a  bitter  wind  shook  the  tops  of  the  stiff  pines. 
Deering  thought  snow  was  coming  and  pushed  on  as 
fast  as  possible,  until  he  saw  a  gleam  of  light. 

A  big  fire  threw  a  cheerful  glow  about  the  shack 
and  Jimmy  occupied  a  pile  of  branches  by  the  snapping 
logs.  He  had  pulled  a  blanket  over  his  shoulders, 
but  when  he  heard  Deering's  step  he  jumped  up.  Deer- 
ing  dropped  his  load,  straightened  his  back  and  looked 
about. 

"Where's  the  Indian?" 

"He's  gone,"  said  Jimmy.  "I  expect  he  had  enough. 
In  fact,  I'd  begun  to  feel  I'd  had  enough,  and  when 
I  heard  your  step  my  relief  was  pretty  keen." 


206  NORTHWEST! 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Deering.  "Let's  get  supper  and 
then  we'll  talk." 

When  he  had  satisfied  his  appetite  he  narrated  his 
adventures  and  his  meeting  Laura  and  Dillon. 

"If  you  want  Frank,  he's  your  man  and  he  might 
be  useful,"  he  remarked.  "Then  I  reckon  Miss  Laura's 
willing  for  him  to  help.  Your  friends  are  good." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Jimmy,  looking  at  Deering  hard. 
"My  friends  are  better  than  I  deserve.  But  what 
about  Douglas  ?  Did  you  find  out  much  ?" 

Deering  admitted  that  he  did  not,  but  when  he 
talked  about  Neilson  he  used  some  caution.  Since 
Jimmy  trusted  Stannard,  there  was  no  use  in  trying 
to  warn  him;  some  time  he  would  get  enlightenment. 

"On  the  whole,  I  think  the  police  knew  I  was  at 
Vancouver,"  he  said.  "Their  plan  was  to  hit  my  trail 
when  I  started  back.  I  don't  expect  they  did  so,  but 
it's  possible.  Anyhow,  now  the  Indian's  gone,  and  a 
cold  snap  threatens,  we  have  got  to  quit.  My  plan's 
to  start  for  your  ranch." 

"The  ranch  is  not  far  from  the  railroad." 

"Its  being  near  the  track  has  some  advantages. 
Since  the  police  searched  the  spot,  I  guess  they're  sat- 
isfied. Then  we  want  food,  and  packing  supplies  for 
a  long  distance  is  a  strenuous  job.  The  Indian  could 
move  a  useful  load,  but  to  carry  fifty  pounds  across 
rocks  and  fallen  trees  makes  me  tired." 

"A  rifle,  a  blanket,  and  twenty  pounds  is  my  load," 
said  Jimmy  and  resumed  in  a  thoughtful  voice :  "Yet 
I  started  for  the  plains " 


DEERING  TAKES  COUNSEL        207 

Bearing  used  some  control  and  let  Jimmy's  re- 
mark go. 

"You  could  not  have  made  it,"  he  said  quietly. 
"But  what  about  our  jumping  off?" 

"We'll  talk  about  it  again,"  Jimmy  replied.  "I 
suppose  we  must  go,  but  now  you're  back,  I  don't  want 
to  bother.  You  brace  me  up.  Until  I  heard  your  step, 
I  felt  down  and  out." 

He  threw  fresh  wood  on  the  fire,  and  soon  after- 
wards they  went  to  sleep.  Jimmy's  sleep  was  broken, 
and  when  he  woke  at  daybreak  he  shivered.  He  did 
not  want  to  get  up,  but  he  must  fetch  water.  The 
kettle  handle  stung  his  skin,  the  pools  on  the  creek 
were  frozen,  and  he  saw  the  snow  had  moved  five  or 
six  hundred  feet  down  the  rocks.  Rose-pink  light 
touched  the  high  peaks  and  hoar  frost  sparkled  on  the 
pines,  but  the  stern  beauty  of  the  wilds  was  daunting. 
Jimmy  wanted  the  deep  valleys  up  which  the  soft 
Chinook  blew. 

When  he  went  back,  Deering  was  occupied  at  the 
fire.  He  looked  up  and  remarked  with  a  twinkle: 
"The  cold  is  pretty  fierce.  If  we're  going  to  stay, 
you'll  want  a  skin  coat  and  another  blanket." 

"When  we  have  got  breakfast  we'll  start  for  the 
ranch,"  Jimmy  replied. 


XXIII 

MARGARET   TAKES   A    PLUNGE 

T?  OR  a  time  Jimmy  was  not  disturbed  at  the  ranch. 
•*•  On  the  high  rocks  the  frost  was  keen,  but  in  the 
deep  valley  a  gentle  wind  from  the  Pacific  melted  the 
snow.  Jimmy  dared  not  order  sawed  lumber,  but  Jar- 
dine  got  him  a  door  and  windows  and  the  house  was 
warm.  Sometimes  he  went  shooting  and  sometimes 
he  went  to  Kelshope.  Jardine  wras  friendly,  but  when 
the  rancher  had  gone  to  look  after  his  stock  Jimmy  was 
resigned.  To  sit  by  the  fire  and  talk  to  Margaret  was 
a  delightful  occupation. 

At  the  beginning  he  had  remarked  her  beauty,  but 
now  he  knew  beauty  was  not  all  her  charm.  Margaret 
was  clever;  she  saw  his  point  of  view,  and  when  she 
did  not  agree  her  argument  was  logical  and  keen.  Then 
she  was  proud  and  fearless,  and  he  sensed  in  her  some- 
thing primitive.  Margaret  was  his  sort  and  sprang 
from  stock  like  his.  Yet  he  felt  her  physical  charm. 
Her  eyes  were  sea-blue,  and  in  the  firelight  her  hair 
was  like  red  California  gold.  She  had  a  bushman's 
balance,  and  her  unconscious  pose  was  Greek.  Al- 
though she  was  frank,  with  something  of  a  great  lady's 
frankness,  Jimmy  soon  knew  her  fastidious. 

But  for  his  part  in  the  shooting  accident,  his  satis- 
faction would  have  been  complete.  It  looked  as  if 

208 


MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE     209 

the  police  had  resolved  to  leave  him  alone,  and  Deering 
had  made  one  or  two  excursions  to  the  cities,  but  Jim- 
my doubted.  He  knew  the  Royal  North-West  do  not 
forget.  Moreover,  somebody  shot  Douglas,  and  on 
the  whole  he  thought  he  had  done  so.  Sometimes  he 
wondered  whether  he  ought  to  go  to  Kelshope,  but  all 
the  same  he  went. 

When  Deering  was  at  Calgary,  Margaret  one  aft- 
ernoon rode  home  from  the  station  as  fast  as  possible. 
At  the  ranch  she  took  down  the  load  of  groceries 
but  left  the  horse  tied  to  a  post.  Jardine  was  by  the 
fire  and  had  pulled  off  his  boot.  In  the  morning  he 
had  cut  his  foot  with  his  ax.  He  gave  Margaret  a 
keen  glance  and  saw  she  had  ridden  fast. 

"Weel?"  he  said.     "Is  something  bothering  ye?" 

"Two  troopers  and  their  horses  came  in  on  the 
freight  train.  I  expect  they're  looking  for  Mr.  Ley- 
land." 

"Ah,"  said  Jardine.  "Somebody  has  given  the  lad 
away." 

"Bob,"  said  Margaret  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 

Jardine  knitted  his  brows.  "Maybe,  but  I  dinna 
ken ;  Bob  hasna  been  around  for  long.  Did  the  troop- 
ers saddle  up?" 

"When  I  left,  they  were  cinching  on  their  camp 
truck.  I  thought  they'd  soon  start.  Mr.  Leyland 
can't  come  down  the  valley  and  Deering's  not  with 
him.  Where  is  he  to  go?" 

"If  he  could  make  Green  Lake,  Peter  would  put  him 
on  the  Mission  trail." 


210  NORTHWEST! 

"He  cannot  make  Green  Lake,"  Margaret  rejoined. 
"He  doesn't  know  the  bench  country  and  must  start 
in  the  dark." 

"Jimmy  must  start  soon.  If  he  stays,  the  troopers 
will  get  him,"  Jardine  agreed,  and  indicated  his  cut 
foot.  "Somebody  must  warn  the  lad,  but  I  canna 
gang." 

Margaret  tried  to  brace  up,  for  she  had  not  reck- 
oned on  her  father's  lameness.  The  strange  thing  was, 
Jardine  had  walked  some  distance  to  round  up  his 
cattle.  She  must,  however,  weigh  this  again.  Speed 
was  important  and  Jimmy  was  her  friend ;  in  fact,  she 
had  begun  to  think  him  her  lover. 

"You  could  ride  the  cayuse  and  carry  the  packs.  If 
Mr.  Leyland  was  not  loaded  he  could  make  a  good 
pace." 

"The  cayuse  wouldna  carry  a  weight  like  mine  across 
the  bench  belt  and  Green  Lake's  a  two-days'  hike.  I 
canna  walk;  I  doubt  if  I  could  get  on  my  boot,"  Jar- 
dine  replied,  and  added  with  philosophical  resignation : 
"It's  a  pity  o'  the  lad!  I  expect  the  police  are  noo 
on  the  ranch  trail,  but  I  dinna  see  how  we  can 
help." 

Margaret  clenched  her  hands.  Somebody  must  warn 
Jimmy  and  her  father  declared  he  could  not.  She 
looked  at  him  hard  and  knew  he  could  not  be  moved. 
He  gave  her  an  apologetic  glance  and  began  to  fill  his 
pipe,  as  if  the  thing  was  done  with.  Yet  it  was  not 
done  with.  Margaret  saw,  rather  vaguely  because  she 
refused  to  think  about  it,  all  her  going  to  warn  Jimmy 


MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE     211 

implied,  since  if  her  help  was  to  be  useful,  she  must 
go  with  him  to  Green  Lake.  For  a  few  moments  she 
hesitated,  but  she  was  generous  and  her  pluck  was 
good.  Then  she  turned  to  Jardine,  who  had  begun 
to  smoke. 

"The  police  shall  not  get  Mr.  Leyland.    I  will  go." 
"Verra  weel,"  said  Jardine.     "If  ye  mean  to  gang, 
ye  had  better  start.    Ye'll  need  to  take  some  food;  I'll 
get  the  saddle  bag." 

He  crossed  the  floor  and  Margaret  remarked  that 
for  a  few  steps  he  went  lightly,  as  if  his  foot  did  not 
hurt.  Then  he  limped,  and  when  he  got  to  the  door 
he  stopped  and  leaned  against  the  post.  All  the  same, 
it  was  not  important  and  Margaret  began  to  pack 
some  food  and  clothes.  Ten  minutes  afterwards,  she 
untied  the  horse  and  gave  Jardine  her  hand. 

"Good-bye,"  she  said  in  a  quiet  voice.  "I  don't 
know  when  I  shall  get  back." 

Jardine  held  the  stirrup,  she  seized  the  bridle,  set 
her  mouth  and  started  the  horse.  When  she  vanished 
in  the  woods  Jardine  went  back  to  the  house,  rested 
his  foot  on  a  chair,  and  knitted  his  brows.  He  saw 
he  ran  some  risk,  but  he  knew  his  daughter  and  thought 
he  knew  Jimmy.  Jimmy  was  a  white  man;  Jardine, 
so  to  speak,  bet  all  he  had  on  that. 

Some  time  afterwards,  Jimmy,  cooking  his  supper, 
heard  a  horse's  feet  and  went  to  the  door.  He  smiled, 
because  he  thought  he  knew  the  horse;  but  Margaret 
was  obviously  riding  fast  and  snapping  branches  indi- 
cated that  she  had  cut  out  a  bend  of  the  trail.  When 


212  NORTHWEST! 

she  got  down  her  color  was  high  and  the  horse's  coat 
was  white. 

"Roll  up  your  blanket  and  put  the  sling  on  your 
rifle,"  she  said.  "Then  I'll  help  you  pack  some  food." 

Jimmy  studied  her  with  surprise.  Her  look  was 
resolute,  but  he  got  a  hint  of  embarrassment  Then 
he  saw  a  light. 

"Ah!"  he  said.    "The  police  are  on  my  track?" 

"Two  troopers  are  riding  up  the  valley.  They  may 
stop  at  Kelshope  for  a  few  minutes.  Where  do  you 
keep  your  groceries!" 

Jimmy  opened  a  box,  and  Margaret  picked  out  a 
number  of  articles.  "Now  make  a  pack,  because  you 
must  start  at  once  for  my  cousin's  at  Green  Lake.  I 
expect  Peter  will  help  you  south." 

"But  I  don't  know  the  trail,  and  it  will  soon  be 
dark." 

"Make  your  pack!  The  police  will  arrive  in  a  few 
minutes,"  Margaret  rejoined  impatiently  and  turned 
her  head.  "There  is  not  a  trail.  I  am  going  with  you." 

"No!"  said  Jimmy  with  some  embarrassment. 

"You're  kind,  of  course,  but  you  ought  to  see If 

you  start  me  off,  I  expect  I  can  find  my  way." 

Margaret  turned  and  fronted  him.  The  blood  came 
to  her  skin  and  her  look  was  strained. 

"You  can't  find  the  way  and  I  can't  go  back.  The 
police  know  I'm  not  at  the  ranch,  and  if  I  start  for 
home,  I'll  meet  them  in  the  valley.  But  we  mustn't 
talk.  We  must  get  off." 

Jimmy  leaned  against  the  table  and  frowned.     Al- 


MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE     213 

though  his  heart  beat,  he  hesitated.  He  knew  Mar- 
garet's pluck  and  he  loved  her,  but  she  must  not  pay 
for  her  rash  generosity.  One  must  think  for  the  girl 
one  loved. 

"Suppose  the  police  do  know  you  warned  me?  It's 
awkward,  but  perhaps  that's  all.  Anyhow,  I'll  go 
down  and  meet  them.  Since  I  expect  I  shot  warden 
Douglas,  I  must  bear  the  consequences." 

"Oh,  but  you  are  obstinate!"  Margaret  exclaimed 
and  used  Stannard's  argument.  "It  looks  as  if  one 
of  your  party  meant  to  shoot  Douglas  and  the  police 
have  not  caught  the  man.  They  must  catch  somebody 
and  they'll  try  to  fix  the  shooting  on  you.  To  join 
the  chain-gang  would  be  horrible." 

"The  thing  has  not  much  charm,"  Jimmy  agreed  and 
was  rather  surprised  by  his  coolness,  but  he  was  cool. 
"I  don't  know  much  about  the  police  code,  but  I  rather 
think  they'd  stop  at " 

He  heard  a  noise  and  Margaret  turned. 

"I  put  up  the  rails,"  she  said  in  a  sharp  voice. 

Jimmy  went  to  the  window  and  saw  a  mounted  po- 
liceman pull  down  the  slip-rails  at  the  fence  and  ride 
through  the  gap.  Then  he  heard  a  quick  step  and 
looked  round.  Margaret  had  got  his  rifle.  The  butt 
was  at  her  shoulder  and  the  barrel  rested  against  the 
doorpost.  Jimmy  saw  her  face  in  profile;  her  mouth 
was  set  tight,  her  glance  was  fixed  and  hard.  He 
jumped  for  the  door,  but  struck  a  chair  and  the  col- 
lision stopped  him.  The  rifle  jerked  and  a  little  smoke 
floated  about  the  girl. 


214  NORTHWEST! 

When  Jimmy  reached  the  door  he  saw  the  police- 
man's horse  stumble.  The  trooper  leaned  back,  tried 
to  pull  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  and  fell  with  the 
animal.  Jimmy  thought  it  rolled  on  him,  but  after  a 
few  moments  he  crawled  away  from  its  hoofs.  The 
horse  was  quiet  and  the  man  got  up.  His  movements 
were  awkward  and  he  looked  dully  at  the  house. 

Margaret  pushed  Jimmy  back  and  put  the  rifle  to 
her  shoulder.  A  sharp  report  rolled  across  the  clear- 
ing, twigs  fell  from  a  quivering  pine  branch,  and  the 
trooper  vanished  in  the  woods.  Jimmy's  hands  shook, 
but  his  relief  was  keen. 

"I  expect  his  rifle's  in  the  bucket  under  the  horse 
and  the  horse  is  dead,"  Margaret  remarked.  "I  was 
forced  to  shoot." 

"Ah!"  said  Jimmy  hoarsely.  "I  thought  you  had 
hit  the  man !" 

Margaret's  pose  was  stiff,  as  if  she  braced  herself, 
but  she  smiled. 

"He  knows  I  shoot  straight.  Until  his  partner 
comes  and  helps  him  get  his  rifle,  he'll  stop  in  the 
woods." 

"But  perhaps  the  other's  not  far  off." 

"He's  at  the  ranch,"  said  Margaret.  "He'd  stop 
to  see  if  you  were  about  and  try  to  find  out  something 
from  father.  Father  would  keep  him  as  long  as  pos- 
sible  "  She  stopped  and  turning  her  head  re- 
sumed: "But  the  first  fellow  knows  a  woman  shot 
his  horse.  When  I  put  up  the  rifle,  he  was  riding 
for  the  door." 


MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE     215 

"I  expect  that  is  so,"  said  Jimmy.  "After  all,  you 
must  go  to  your  cousin's.  Let's  start!" 

Margaret  said  nothing.  When  Jimmy  brought  her 
horse  she  got  up  and  he  ran  by  her  stirrup.  For  a  time 
she  went  up  the  valley,  and  then  turning  back  obliquely 
through  thin  timber,  pushed  up  a  steep  hill.  Near  the 
top  she  stopped  and  Jimmy  got  his  breath  and  looked 
down  across  the  trees.  Dusk  was  falling  and  all  was 
very  quiet.  Gloom  had  invaded  the  clearing,  but  he 
saw  a  small  dark  object  he  knew  was  the  policeman's 
horse.  A  thin  plume  of  smoke  went  up  from  his 
house ;  his  fire  was  burning,  and  he  wondered  when  it 
would  burn  again.  For  a  few  moments  he  was  moved 
by  a  strange  melancholy,  and  then  his  heart  beat. 

"I  hate  to  go  away.  If  you  were  not  with  me,  I 
think  I'd  stay  and  risk  it  all,"  he  said.  "I  was  happy 
at  the  ranch;  in  fact,  I  soon  began  to  see  I  hadn't 
known  real  happiness  before.  At  the  beginning  I  was 
puzzled,  but  now  I  can  account  for  it.  You  were  at 
Kelshope- 

"Not  long  since  you  didn't  want  me  to  go  with 
you,"  Margaret  remarked. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Jimmy  with  some  awkwardness, 
"you  hadn't  yet  shot  the  policeman's  horse." 

Margaret  said  nothing  and  he  seized  the  bridle, 
pulled  round  the  cayuse,  and  forced  her  to  look 
down. 

"Will  you  marry  me  at  the  Mission,  Margaret  ?" 

She  met  his  glance  and  hers  was  proud.  "I  think 
not,  Jimmy.  You  are  a  white  man  and  mean  to  take 


216  NORTHWEST! 

the  proper  line.  But  I  will  not  marry  you  because  I 
stopped  the  trooper." 

Jimmy  threw  back  his  head  and  she  liked  his  frank, 
scornful  laugh.  "Now,  you're  altogether  ridiculous! 
Your  stopping  the  fellow  does  not  account  for  my 
wanting  to  marry  you.  Soon  after  I  got  to  work  at 
the  ranch  I  knew  I  loved  you,  but  I  went  to  the  moun- 
tains with  Stannard  and  the  trouble  began.  So  long  as 
the  police  were  hunting  for  me  I  dared  not  urge  you." 

"But  now  you  urge  me  ?  It  looks  as  if  your  scruples 
had  vanished!" 

Jimmy  let  go  the  bridle  and  bent  his  head.  "I  sup- 
pose it  does  look  like  that.  All  the  same,  I  love  you." 

Margaret  leaned  down  and  touched  him  gently. 
"You  keep  your  rules,  and  your  rules  are  good.  Per- 
haps it's  strange,  but  I  think  a  woman  will  break  con- 
ventions where  a  man  will  not.  Still,  you  see,  I'm 
proud " 

"You  are  very  hard,"  Jimmy  rejoined.  "Yet  you 
ran  some  risk  to  warn  me.  I  know  your  pluck,  but  if 
you  had  not  loved  me,  I  think  you'd  have  stayed  at 
Kelshope." 

"We'll  let  it  go,"  said  Margaret  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"There's  another  thing;  ranching  is  a  game  for  you, 
but  it's  my  proper  work.  Yours  is  at  the  cotton  mill. 
You're  rich  and  your  wife  must  be  clever  and  culti- 
vated." 

"I  haven't  known  a  girl  with  talents,  grace  and 
beauty  like  yours,"  Jimmy  declared.  "Then  I'm  not 
rich  yet,  the  police  are  on  my  track,  and  I  may  soon  be 


MARGARET  TAKES  A  PLUNGE     217 

a  prisoner "  He  looked  up  and  added  in  a  dreary 

voice:  "I  admit  it's  not  much  of  an  argument  for 
your  marrying  me." 

Margaret  smiled.  "Perhaps  you  were  not  logical, 
but  we'll  talk  about  it  again,  when  we  get  to  Green 
Lake.  You  mustn't  talk  now.  I  don't  know  if  the 
trooper  would  stop  long  at  the  ranch,  and  we  must 
cross  the  hill  before  the  moon  is  up." 

She  started  her  horse  and  they  pushed  on.  An 
hour  afterwards  the  moon  rose  from  behind  a  broken 
range,  and  silver  light  touched  the  stiff  dark  pines. 
The  high  peaks  sparkled;  a  glacier  glimmered  in  the 
rocks,  and  the  mists  curling  up  from  the  valley  were 
faintly  luminous.  Jimmy  smelt  sweet  resinous  smells 
and  heard  a  distant  river  throb.  The  landscape  was 
strangely  beautiful,  but  its  beauty  was  austere.  All 
was  keen,  and  cold,  and  bracing,  and  Jimmy,  walking 
by  Margaret's  bridle,  thought  her  charm  was  the  charm 
of  the  stern  and  quiet  North. 


XXIV 

JIMMY   RESIGNS   HIMSELF 

morning  was  calm  and  Jimmy,  walking  by 
Margaret's  horse,  turned  his  head.  Faint,  sweet 
notes  stole  across  the  rocks  and  he  knew  the  distant 
chime  of  cow-bells.  As  a  rule,  the  elfin  music  moved 
him.  Where  the  cow-bells  rang,  cornfields  and  or- 
chards advanced  up  the  valleys  and  man  drove  back 
the  forest,  but  Jimmy's  satisfaction  was  blunted.  For 
two  days  Margaret  and  he  had  pushed  through  the 
quiet  woods.  In  the  cold  evenings  they  had  talked 
by  the  snapping  fire,  but  now  the  romantic  journey  was 
near  its  end. 

After  a  few  minutes  Margaret  stopped  the  horse. 
In  front,  dark  pines  rolled  up  the  hill  and  the  long 
rows  of  ragged  tops  looked  like  the  waves  of  an  ad- 
vancing tide  that  broke  against  the  rocks.  Across  the 
valley,  the  sun  touched  the  snow,  and  at  the  bottom 
of  a  broken  slope  a  lake  sparkled.  Jimmy  saw  its  sur- 
face rippled,  for  a  Chinook  wind  blew  and  the  frost 
was  gone.  Near  the  end  of  the  lake  a  plume  of  smoke 
streaked  the  trees. 

"Green  Lake  ranch !"  said  Margaret. 

For  a  few  moments  Jimmy  was  quiet.  When  they 
reached  the  valley  he  thought  the  strange  charm  he  had 

felt  in  the  mountains  would  vanish;  it  was  too  fine  and 

218 


JIMMY  RESIGNS  HIMSELF         219 

elusive  for  him  to  recapture.  Until  they  started  for 
Green  Lake,  he  had  not  known  Margaret.  Cleverer 
than  himself  at  woodcraft,  she  had  a  man's  strength 
and  pluck.  She  did  not  grumble;  she  was  frank  and 
not  embarrassed.  Yet  a  womanly  gentleness  marked 
her,  and  she  did  not  think  for  herself.  Although  her 
touch  was  light,  Jimmy  had  felt  her  control  and  took 
the  line  she  meant  him  to  take.  In  the  meantime  they 
were  not  lovers,  but  partners  in  romantic  adventure. 

"For  your  sake,  I'm  glad  we'll  soon  reach  your 
cousin's  house,"  he  said.  "I  don't  know  if  I'm  glad 
for  mine." 

Margaret  smiled  but  gently  shook  her  head.  "You 
must  play  up,  Jimmy!" 

"I  have  played  up.  Perhaps  it's  strange,  but  in 
the  woods  to  be  content  because  we  were  pals  was  not 
hard.  Now  we'll  soon  reach  your  cousin's,  I'm  not 
content,  and  one  is  forced  to  think " 

"For  a  time  you  must  think  about  beating  the  po- 
lice; that's  all,"  said  Margaret  firmly. 

"It  is  not  all,"  Jimmy  declared.  "When  we  went 
up  the  hill  in  the  evening,  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  and 
you  promised " 

"I  promised  we  would  talk  about  it,"  said  Margaret. 
"Before  you  start  from  Peter's  we  will  do  so;  but 
since  you  must  start  soon,  we'll  go  on." 

Jimmy  saw  he  could  not  move  her,  and  they  went 
down  the  hill.  At  the  ranch  fence  a  man  met  them 
and  took  them  to  the  house.  When  they  went  in  a 
woman  got  up,  kissed  Margaret,  and  gave  Jimmy  a 


220  NORTHWEST! 

smile.  So  far  as  he  could  see,  Mrs.  Jardine  and  her 
husband  did  not  think  it  strange  he  had  arrived  with 
Margaret,  and  he  was  somewhat  comforted,  although 
he  noted  that  Margaret's  color  rose.  Margaret  knew 
her  relations.  They  were  primitive,  honest  folk,  and 
took  it  for  granted  Jimmy  was  her  lover. 

"Sit  right  down.  Dinner  will  soon  be  ready,"  said 
Peter  Jardine.  "How's  the  old  man?  Give  us  your 
news." 

Jimmy  narrated  his  and  Margaret's  adventures  and, 
until  he  stopped,  his  hosts  said  nothing.  It  did  not 
look  as*  if  they  were  disturbed,  but  they  were  bush 
folk  and  the  bush  is  quiet.  For  all  that,  Jimmy  felt 
they  owned  themselves  Margaret's  relations  and  for 
her  sake  were  willing  to  help  him  out. 

"The  trapper's  old  shack  is  the  spot  for  you,"  Peter 
remarked.  "After  dinner  we'll  start.  Margaret  must 
stay  with  us." 

Margaret  agreed,  but  Jimmy  objected. 

"Margaret  is  going  with  me  to  the  Mission.  The 
police  will  soon  arrive." 

"I  reckon  they  don't  know  her,  and  they  don't  know 
how  many  womenfolk  I've  got.  When  she  puts  on 
Sadie's  clothes,  she'll  look  as  if  she  belonged  to  the 
ranch.  Maybe  the  police  haven't  found  your  trail; 
but  we  mustn't  bet  on  that." 

Margaret  went  off  with  Sadie  and  Jimmy  speculated 
about  their  talk.  By  and  by  he  turned  to  his  host. 

"I'm  going  to  marry  your  cousin  when  she  is  will- 
ing." 


"Sure,"  said  Peter.  "You  reckoned  to  get  married 
at  the  Mission  ?" 

"That  is  so.     So  far,  Margaret  refuses." 

Peter  knitted  his  brows.  "Sometimes  I  don't  see 
what  Sadie  gets  after  and  I  sure  can't  calculate  Mar- 
garet's notion.  Women  beat  me.  All  the  same,  it's 
plain  she  thinks  you  a  white  man,  and  Margaret's  not 
a  fool.  Now  we'll  let  it  go.  Say,  did  you  plug  the 
warden?" 

"It  looks  like  that,"  Jimmy  replied.  "However,  if  I 
did  hit  the  fellow,  I  didn't  know  I  was  shooting  at  a 
man." 

"Very  well!  You  can't  get  down  the  main  track 
to  the  coast,  because  the  police  will  reckon  on  your 
going  there  and  watch  the  stations.  I'd  make  for  the 
plains  and  then  shove  south  for  Montana." 

"That  was  Stannard's  plan." 

Peter  smiled  scornfully.  "You  were  to  cross  the 
rocks  and  carry  your  grub  and  camping  truck  ?  Shucks ! 
An  old-time  prospector  might  make  it;  you  could  not. 
You've  got  to  lie  up  at  the  trapper's  shack  until  we 
look  about.  Maybe  we  can  fix  it  to  ship  you  out  of  the 
mountains  on  board  a  construction  train  that  some- 
times runs  down  to  a  station  on  the  Calgary  side. 
Well,  let's  make  our  packs  and  catch  the  horse." 

They  got  to  work  and  after  the  horse  was  caught, 
Peter  turned  back  to  the  house,  but  Jimmy  stopped. 
"I  must  talk  to  Margaret  for  a  few  minutes,"  he  said. 

Margaret  came  out  to  him.  Her  look  was  quiet 
but  he  knew  her  resolute. 


222  NORTHWEST! 

"When  dinner's  over,  Peter  and  I  must  start,"'  he 
said.  "You  refused  to  go  to  the  Mission.  I  want 
to  know  what  this  implies." 

Margaret  gave  him  a  level  glance.  "Isn't  it  plain, 
Jimmy?  You  know  my  father,  and  now  you  have 
met  my  relations.  They  are  not  your  sort." 

"So  far  as  I  know,  they're  a  remarkably  good  sort," 
Jimmy  rejoined.  "Besides,  in  a  way,  I  am  their  sort. 
My  grandfather  was  a  mill  hand;  my  father  borrowed 
a  small  sum,  and  started  with  cheap  machinery  to  spin 
cotton  at  a  little  old-fashioned  mill.  He  was  frugal 
and  laborious;  in  fact,  he  prospered  because  he  had 
your  bushman's  qualities.  I  have  loafed  and  squan- 
dered, but  after  a  time  I  felt  I'd  had  enough  and  be- 
gan to  see  I'd  inherited  something  from  the  people 
who  made  Ley  land's  go.  Then,  if  we  must  talk  about 
our  relations,  you  don't  know  my  uncle  Dick.  Well, 
I've  stated  something  like  this  before,  but  it's  my  reply 
to  your  argument." 

"But  you  mean  to  go  back  to  Lancashire,  and  when 
you  marry  your  wife  ought " 

"To  begin  with,  I  doubt  if  the  police  will  allow  me 
to  go  back.  Then,  if  I  can't  get  you,  I  don't  want  a 
wife!" 

"Yet,  not  very  long  since,  it  looked  as  if  you  might 
be  satisfied  with  Miss  Stannard." 

The  blood  came  to  Jimmy's  skin,  and  to  conquer  his 
embarrassment  was  hard. 

"I  don't  think  you're  kind.  Well,  I'm  young  and, 
until  I  met  Stannard,  I  was  very  raw.  All  I  knew  was 


JIMMY  RESIGNS  HIMSELF        223 

the  cotton  mill,  and  I  expect  Laura  carried  me  away. 
But  I  was  not  altogether  a  fool;  Laura  Stannard  is  a 
charming  girl.  The  obstacle  was,  she  saw  I  was  not 
the  man  for  her.  Then  I  did  not  know  you." 

Margaret  smiled,  but  her  smile  was  gentle.  "Per- 
haps I  was  not  kind.  You're  stanch  and  my  experi- 
ment was  shabby." 

"Your  remark  was  justified.  Anyhow,  it's  not  im- 
portant. If  I  can  cheat  the  police  and  get  back  to 
Lancashire,  will  you  marry  me,  Margaret?" 

For  a  few  moments  Margaret  was  quiet.  Then  she 
said  in  a  steady  voice:  "Your  cheating  the  police 
would  not  persuade  me ;  in  fact,  somehow  I  think  they 
will  find  out  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  warden's 
getting  shot.  The  obstacle's  not  there.  You  are 
young,  Jimmy,  and  you  admitted  you  were  carried 
away." 

"One  cannot  carry  you  away,"  Jimmy  rejoined. 

"I  must  think  for  you  and  for  myself,"  said  Mar- 
garet and  Jimmy's  heart  beat,  because  he  saw  her  calm 
was  forced.  "Suppose  your  trustees  did  not  approve 
your  marrying  a  girl  from  the  bush?" 

"Dick  Leyland  might  not  approve;  his  habit's  to 
be  nasty,  but  mine's  not  to  bother  about  Dick.  Sir 
Jim  is  head  of  the  house  and  he's  human.  I  can't 
picture  his  not  being  altogether  satisfied  with  you." 

"But  you  don't  know !" 

Jimmy  pondered.  Margaret's  firmness  baffled  him, 
but,  from  her  point  of  view,  he  saw  she  took  the  proper 
line.  All  the  same,  it  cost  her  something;  she  was 


224  NORTHWEST! 

highly  strung,  her  color  came  and  went,  and  her  tight 
mouth  was  significant.  The  trouble  was,  he  dared  not 
urge  her  very  hard.  In  the  meantime,  he  must  hide 
from  the  police  and  might  be  sent  to  the  chain-gang. 

"I  want  you,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "I'm  selfish.  If 
you  marry  me,  I  run  no  risk,  but  you  may  run  some. 
My  drawbacks  are  rather  numerous,  particularly  just 
now." 

"Very  well,"  said  Margaret.  "When  you  come  back 
from  the  mountains,  I  may  perhaps  agree.  But  your 
relations  must  approve  and  I  don't  yet  engage 

Jimmy  advanced,  but  she  stepped  back  and  stopped 
him.  Then  he  turned  and  saw  Mrs.  Jardine  wave  to 
them  from  the  stoop. 

Dinner  was  a  melancholy  function,  and  Jimmy 
thought  his  hosts  disturbed.  They  were  Margaret's 
relations  and  for  her  sake  were  willing  to  help,  but 
he  pictured  Mrs.  Jardine's  weighing  the  risk.  Then 
he  was  bothered  about  Margaret,  for  Peter's  confidence 
that  his  wife  could  bluff  the  police  if  they  arrived  be- 
fore he  returned  did  not  banish  his  doubts. 

At  length  Mrs.  Jardine  got  up  and  Peter  and  Jimmy 
went  to  load  the  horse.  By  and  by  the  rancher  ran 
back  for  some  tobacco  and  Jimmy  moodily  fastened 
the  pack-rope.  Stooping  by  the  horse,  he  thought  he 
heard  a  step,  but  did  not  look  up,  and  a  few  moments 
afterwards  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Then  an 
arm  went  around  his  neck  and  Margaret  turned  his  head 
and  kissed  him.  He  tried  to  seize  her,  but  she  slipped 


JIMMY  RESIGNS  HIMSELF         225 

away  and  stopped  a  yard  or  two  off.  Jimmy  thrilled 
and  his  eyes  sparkled. 

"Now  I  know  when  I  come  back  you  won't  refuse 
me." 

"You  don't  know ;  I  don't  know,"  Margaret  replied 
in  a  trembling  voice.  "All  the  same,  I  love  you,  and 
you're  going  away " 

Peter  and  Mrs.  Jardine  came  out.  The  rancher 
seized  the  bridle  and  called  to  the  horse.  Jimmy  lifted 
his  battered  hat  and  they  started  across  the  clearing. 

Three  days  afterwards,  they  stopped  at  a  small  stone 
hut,  built  against  the  bottom  of  a  great  rock.  On  one 
side  dark  pines  rolled  up  to  the  walls,  and  a  hundred 
yards  off  one  could  hardly  see  the  pile  of  stones  was 
a  building.  Yet  the  small  room  was  rudely  furnished 
and  the  earth  floor  was  dry.  They  cut  some  wood, 
made  a  fire,  and  cooked  food,  and  after  the  meal  lighted 
their  pipes. 

"You  have  got  an  ax  and  a  rifle,  but  if  you  run 
out  of  grub,  Graham,  the  section-hand  on  the  railroad 
will  put  me  wise,"  said  Peter.  "Tom's  a  white  man 
and  his  post's  not  far  from  the  spot  we  crossed  the  line. 
The  trapper  who  lived  here  is  dead  and  I  reckon  no- 
body but  Tom  and  me  knows  about  the  shack." 

"I  expect  I've  got  all  I  want,  but  I'm  bothered  about 
Margaret." 

"You  don't  want  to  bother.  In  the  meantime,  Mar- 
garet's my  wife's  sister  from  Calgary.  That's  good 
enough  for  the  police,  and  anyhow  the  Royal  North- 


226  NORTHWEST! 

West  aren't  city  patrolmen.  They  reckon  they're  high- 
brow frontier  cavalry  and  I  guess  the  trooper  won't 
allow  a  girl  held  him  up.  You'll  stay  put,  until  we 
see  if  we  can  ship  you  out  with  the  construction  boys 
to  the  Calgary  side.  If  that  plan  won't  go,  we'll  push 
across  the  range  for  the  big  park  valley  and  try  to  run 
you  south.  I  think  that's  all;  but  if  you  want  to  send 
a  letter  to  your  friends,  Graham  will  mail  it  for  you." 

After  a  time  Peter  knocked  out  his  pipe  and  Jimmy 
went  with  him  to  the  door.  When  the  rancher  van- 
ished in  the  woods  and  all  was  quiet  Jimmy  leaned 
against  the  post  and  gave  himself  to  gloomy  thought. 

It  began  to  get  dark.  The  snow-veined  rocks  melted 
in  the  mist  and  the  pines  were  vague  and  black.  In 
the  distance  a  timber  wolf  howled  and  the  long  mourn- 
ful note  emphasized  the  dreariness.  In  the  rocks  where 
Jimmy  hid  at  the  beginning  he  had  Deering's  society 
and  at  the  ranch  he  had  Margaret's  and  Jardine's. 
Now  he  was  altogether  alone  in  the  savage  wilds. 
Going  back  to  the  fire,  he  threw  on  fresh  wood,  and 
although  he  was  not  keen  about  smoking,  lighted  his 
pipe. 


XXV 

THE   CALL 

JIMMY  fastened  his  skin  coat,  and  going  to  the  door 
of  the  section-man's  hut,  looked  up  the  track.  The 
railroad  and  an  angry  river  occupied  the  bottom  of  the 
gorge,  but  the  water  was  low  and  a  rapid  throbbed  on 
a  dull  note.  Jimmy  knew  its  slack  beat  was  ominous; 
the  frost  had  stopped  the  streams  that  not  long  since 
leaped  out  from  the  glaciers. 

He  shivered,  for  the  cold  was  keen  and  the  coat 
he  had  got  at  Green  Lake  was  old.  Besides,  he  was 
tired;  he  had  started  before  daybreak  from  his  shack, 
but  when  he  reached  the  railroad  the  moon  was  on  the 
rocks.  In  the  shadow,  the  snow  that  streaked  the 
mountainside  was  blue;  across  the  gorge  broken  crags 
shone  like  polished  steel  and  the  small  pines  growing 
in  the  cracks  sparkled  with  frost.  Not  far  off,  a  dark 
hole  in  a  slanted  white  bank  indicated  the  mouth  of  a 
snow  shed,  but  Jimmy  knew  the  stones  and  snow  had 
come  down  the  hill. 

When  he  looked  up,  his  view  on  one  side  was  cut 
by  the  top  of  a  precipice;  it  was  like  looking  up  from 
a  deep  pit.  Farther  along  the  gorge,  the  rocks  got 
indistinct  and  melted  in  the  moon's  pale  reflections. 
No  track  but  the  railroad  pierced  the  mountains,  al- 
though the  wide  chain  was  broken  by  narrow  valleys 

227 


228  NORTHWEST! 

running  north  and  south.  Jimmy  had  come  up  the 
line  from  the  valley  he  occupied,  and  by  another  some 
distance  off  one  could  reach  Green  Lake.  The  nearest 
station  was  twelve  miles  away,  at  the  end  of  Graham's 
section. 

Jimmy  had  arrived  half  an  hour  since,  but  had  not 
found  Graham,  although  his  stove  was  burning.  Peter 
Jardine  had  stated  he  could  trust  the  man,  who  had 
begun  to  clear  a  ranch  at  Green  Lake  but  had  stopped 
•when  his  money  was  gone.  In  the  mountains,  ranch- 
ing is  a  slow  and  laborious  job,  and  men  whose  means 
are  small  are  forced  at  times  to  follow  another  occu- 
pation. 

By  and  by  a  lantern  twinkled  at  the  mouth  of  the 
snow  shed  and  a  man  came  up  the  track. 

"Hello!"  he  said.  "I've  got  some  news  and  won- 
dered if  you'd  blow  in,  but  I  wanted  to  take  a  look 
at  the  rock-cut  before  the  freight  comes  through.  Did 
you  make  supper?" 

Jimmy  said  he  had  cooked  some  flapjacks,  although 
he  felt  he  ought  to  wait  until  his  host  arrived. 

"Shucks !"  remarked  Graham.  "Jardine's  my  neigh- 
bor and  he  allows  you're  his  friend.  But  the  cold's 
fierce.  Let's  get  in." 

They  sat  down  by  the  stove  and  for  a  minute  or  two 
Jimmy  w,a&  content  to  warm  himself  and  smoke.  At 
the  shack  he  had  no  light  but  the  fire  and  the  long 
evenings  were  dreary.  All  the  same,  he  was  disturbed 
and  with  something  of  an  effort  he  said,  "Well  ?" 

"Two  troopers  got  off  the  west-bound  at  the  depot 


THE  CALL  229 

and  my  partner,  Tellson,  allowed  they  brought  a  lot 
of  truck.  Looks  as  if  they  meant  to  stop  around  and 
search  the  neighborhood." 

"Ah !"  said  Jimmy.  "I  expect  they  know  I'm  about ! 
Did  they  bring  their  horses?" 

"Tellson  saw  no  horses.  If  the  boys  were  going  to 
Green  Lake,  they  could  ride.  Besides,  the  other  out- 
fit went  there  not  long  since." 

Jimmy  nodded.  He  knew  the  police  had  not  both- 
ered Margaret  and  he  must  think  for  himself.  The 
troopers  not  bringing  their  horses  was  ominous,  since 
it  indicated  that  they  were  going  to  push  into  the 
mountains.  The  valley  in  which  he  hid  did  not  open 
to  the  track;  to  reach  it  one  must  climb  a  mountain 
spur,  but  he  imagined  the  police  meant  to  climb.  If 
they  found  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  they  might  reach 
the  shack  before  he  knew,  and  if  he  got  away,  he  must 
take  the  snowy  rocks. 

"I  expect  Jardine  hasn't  yet  arranged  to  send  me 
out  on  board  a  train?"  he  said. 

"Peter  was  trying  to  fix  it;  he  had  to  wait  until  he 
met  a  construction  boss  he  knows;  but  he  can't  fix  it 
now.  The  police  will  stop  the  gangs  and  tally  up  the 
boys." 

"If  they  come  down  the  line,  to  find  out  where  I  am 
won't  take  them  long." 

"Your  chances  don't  look  very  good,"  Graham 
agreed.  "If  you  could  cross  the  range  to  the  park 
valley,  you  might  get  away  south,  but  I  doubt  if  you 
could  make  it." 


230  NORTHWEST! 

Jimmy  said  nothing.  He  imagined  Deering  stated 
the  range  had  been  climbed  by  some  city  members  of 
the  Canadian  Alpine  Club;  but  they,  no  doubt,  took 
packers  to  carry  supplies  and  went  when  the  snow-line 
was  high.  For  a  lonely  man  to  venture  on  the  icy 
rocks  was  ridiculous.  After  a  few  minutes  Graham 
pulled  out  his  watch. 

"The  freight's  making  good  time  and  when  she's 
gone  I  must  go  up  the  track  to  the  piece  the  boys  under- 
pinned," he  said.  "I  reckon  I'll  be  away  an  hour 
and  you  had  better  go  to  bed." 

Jimmy  heard  a  rumble  and  went  with  Graham  to 
the  door.  To  watch  the  great  train  come  down  the 
gorge  would  for  a  few  minutes  banish  his  gloomy 
thoughts.  Up  the  track,  a  streak  of  silver  light  touched 
the  rocks  and  trees.  The  speeding  beam  got  brighter, 
and  by  and  by  dazzling  radiance  flooded  the  gorge. 
The  ground  began  to  shake,  harsh,  clanging  echoes 
rolled  across  the  rocks;  one  heard  the  big  cars  jolt  and 
the  roar  of  wheels.  Then  black  smoke  swirled  about 
the  hut  and  the  beam  was  gone.  In  the  dark,  the 
banging  cars  rushed  by,  a  blaze  touched  the  snow  shed 
and  went  out,  and  the  turmoil  died  away. 

Graham  picked  up  his  lantern  and  Jimmy  went  back 
to  the  stove.  Lighting  his  pipe,  he  pulled  out  Stan- 
nard's  map  and  began  to  ponder.  It  was  obvious  he 
must  not  stay  long  at  the  trapper's  shack.  Since  the 
police  watched  the  neighborhood,  he  could  not  get 
food,  and  when  they  found  the  way  to  the  valley  he 
would  be  driven  back  into  the  mountains.  In  fact,  he 


THE  CALL  231 

felt  he  ought  to  try  for  freedom  now  before  his  line 
of  retreat  was  cut,  but  he  was  tired  and  did  not  see 
where  he  could  go. 

There  was  no  use  in  stealing  off  along  the  track, 
because  the  station  agents  were,  no  doubt,  warned  to 
look  out  for  him.  If  he  started  before  daybreak,  he 
might  perhaps  reach  the  trail  to  Green  Lake,  but  Peter 
had  already  run  some  risk  for  him  and  Margaret  was 
at  her  cousin's.  To  go  to  Green  Lake  would  put  the 
police  on  her  track. 

Jimmy  studied  Stannard's  map.  Across  the  moun- 
tains behind  the  shack,  the  park  valley  ran  southeast 
and  from  its  other  end  one  could  perhaps  reach  the 
plains  and  the  United  States.  Graham  had  stated 
Jimmy  could  not  cross  the  range,  but  Graham  was  not 
a  mountaineer.  Stannard  was  a  mountaineer  and 
could  get  supplies  and  packers.  Then  Stannard  was 
his  friend  and  perhaps  owed  him  something. 

The  adventure  was  daunting,  but  Jimmy  resolved 
to  try  it.  He  must  for  a  few  days  risk  stopping  at  the 
shack,  and  pulling  out  a  blank-book,  he  wrote  a  note. 
Graham  would  send  the  note  and  Stannard  would,  no 
doubt,  start  soon  after  it  arrived.  Then  Jimmy  thought 
he  ought  to  let  Margaret  know  his  plans  and  he  wrote 
another  note.  Putting  the  envelopes  on  a  shelf,  he 
got  into  Graham's  bunk. 

When  Jimmy's  note  arrivea  at  the  hotel  Stannard 
was  at  dinner.  For  the  most  part,  the  guests  had  gone, 
but  Mrs.  Dillon  had  returned  with  Frank  and  Laura, 
and  a  young  man  had  joined  the  party.  Stevens  be- 


232  NORTHWEST! 

longed  to  the  Canadian  Alpine  Club,  and  knowing  about 
Stannard's  exploits,  had  cultivated  his  society. 

Stannard  took  the  soiled  envelope  from  the  page  and 
noted  it  had  not  a  stamp. 

"Who  brought  the  letter?"  he  asked. 

"A  freight  brakesman  gave  it  to  our  porter  at  the 
station." 

Stannard  put  down  the  envelope  and  resumed  his 
dinner,  but  Laura  said,  "The  hand  is  Jimmy's.  Aren't 
you  curious?" 

"I  am  curious,  anyhow,"  Dillon  declared,  and  Mrs. 
Dillon  looked  up,  for  she  knew  something  about  Jim- 
my's adventures. 

"If  you  want  to  read  your  letter,  do  so,"  she  said 
to  Stannard. 

Stannard  opened  the  envelope  and  Laura  remarked 
his  thoughtful  look.  She  took  the  note  from  him  and 
after  a  moment  or  two  gave  it  Dillon. 

"Is  it  possible  for  Jimmy  to  get  across?"  Dillon 
asked. 

"I  frankly  don't  know,"  said  Stannard  and  turned 
to  Stevens.  "A  young  friend  of  ours  wants  to  try 
a  rather  bold  exploit ;  he  thinks  he  can  cross  the  Cedar 
Range  and  I  could  help.  In  summer,  I  wouldn't  hesi- 
tate. To  venture  on  the  snow-fields  now  is  another 
thing." 

Stevens's  eyes  sparkled.  He  was  young  and  en- 
thusiastic, and  to  climb  with  a  mountaineer  like  Stan- 
naid  was  something  to  talk  about. 

"Although  I  haven't  long  joined  the  club,  sir,  I  went 


THE  CALL  233 

with  Gordon  when  he  explored  the  Cascades  from  Raw- 
den.  If  you  go,  I'd  like  to  join  you." 

"I  don't  yet  know  if  I'll  go  or  not,"  said  Stannard 
and  resumed  his  dinner. 

Mrs.  Dillon  touched  Laura.  She  was  a  large  and 
rather  quiet  lady  and  not  marked  by  much  refinement, 
but  she  was  kind  and  sometimes  firm. 

"I  want  to  see  that  note,"  she  said. 

Laura  looked  at  Stannard  and  gave  her  the 
note. 

"The  poor  young  man.  He's  surely  up  against  it!" 
she  exclaimed.  "I  like  Jimmy.  If  I  was  a  mountain 
clubman,  I'd  feel  I'd  got  a  call." 

Stannard  said  nothing  and  Laura  was  quiet.  She 
was  disturbed  about  Jimmy,  but  she  knew  her  father. 
Besides,  she  thought  Stevens  curious.  By  and  by  she 
looked  at  Dillon,  who  began  to  talk  about  something 
else. 

When  dinner  was  over  Mrs.  Dillon  joined  another 
lady  and  Stannard  went  off.  Laura  and  Dillon  re- 
mained at  the  table  and  Stevens  saw  they  did  not  want 
his  society.  He  went  away  and  Laura  asked :  "Do 
you  think  Jimmy  can  escape?" 

"If  he  stops  at  his  hut,  I  expect  the  police  will  get 
him,"  Dillon  replied. 

Laura  frowned  and  looked  about.  The  table  was 
decorated  by  flowers  from  the  coast,  and  the  electric 
light  was  reflected  by  good  china  and  glass.  In  the 
background  were  polished  hardwood  panels  and  carved 
pillars.  The  spacious  room  was  warm;  all  struck  a 


234  NORTHWEST! 

note  of  luxurious  refinement,  but  Laura  thought  about 
Jimmy,  cut  off  from  his  supplies,  in  the  snow. 

Had  Jimmy  gone  back  to  Lancashire,  she  admitted 
she  might  have  married  him.  He  had  refused  and  for 
a  time  his  obstinacy  had  hurt,  but  she  was  not  revenge- 
ful and,  since  she  had  rather  weighed  his  advantages 
than  loved  him,  she  could  let  it  go.  She  liked  Jimmy 
and  was  moved  by  a  gentle  sentimental  tenderness. 

"Are  you  willing  to  help  Jimmy,  Frank  ?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  of  course!  I  thought  you  knew  I  mean  to 
help,"  Dillon  declared.  "Perhaps  I  was  jealous  about 
Jimmy,  but  now  I'm  sorry  for  him.  All  the  same,  your 
father  puzzles  me.  He's  not  keen." 

"I  expect  he  knows  the  risk,"  said  Laura  thought- 
fully, for  Stannard's  hesitation  was  obvious.  "Since 
he  must  lead  the  party,  he  feels  he  ought  not  to  be 
rash.  Then  if  Jimmy  got  away  across  the  mountains, 
I  expect  the  police  would  make  you  all  accountable." 

"Oh,  well,  the  job  is  awkward,  although  I  expect 
we  could  put  it  over.  Suppose  we  look  for  Mr. 
Stannard?" 

Stannard  was  in  the  rotunda,  and  when  Laura  and 
Dillon  advanced  he  smiled. 

"You  are  young  and  romantic,  but  I  am  not.  When 
one  gets  old  one  uses  caution." 

"I  doubt  if  I  am  romantic,  but  I  think  Mrs.  Dillon 
did  not  exaggerate,"  Laura  rejoined.  "Jimmy  is  our 
friend  and  trusts  us.  His  note  is  a  call." 

"Sometimes  deafness  is  not  a  drawback.  I  own 
I'd  sooner  not  hear  the  call." 


THE  CALL  235 

"But  you  mean  to  go?" 

"It  looks  as  if  I  might  be  forced.  Frank's  resolve 
is  rather  obvious,"  said  Stannard  with  a  resigned 
shrug. 

Dillon  gave  him  a  keen  glance.  Somehow  he  felt 
Stannard  did  mean  to  go,  but  wanted  to  be  forced. 
Frank  thought  it  strange. 

"I  feel  we  ought  to  help,  and  now  Deering  is  not 
about,  nobody  but  you  can  lead  us." 

For  a  few  moments  Stannard  was  quiet.  Then 
he  said,  "Very  well,  but  if  we  are  going,  we  must 
start  soon.  We  want  packers  to  carry  food  and  a 
tent  as  far  as  possible,  and  I'd  like  a  good  moun- 
taineer to  help  on  the  rocks.  The  hotel  guides  are 
gone,  but  I  expect  the  clerk  knows  where  to  find 
them." 

"Grant  lives  at  Calgary." 

"I  think  the  fellow  I  want's  at  Revelstoke  and  he 
could  get  the  train  that  arrives  in  the  morning,"  said 
Stannard,  and  pulled  out  his  watch.  "We  can  send 
a  night-letter  and  needn't  use  economy.  I'll  telephone 
the  station  agent  and  give  him  the  message." 

Frank  knew  Grant  of  Calgary  was  a  good  moun- 
taineer, but  he  said  nothing  and  Stannard  gave  Laura 
a  smile. 

"I  expect  you  are  satisfied." 

"You're  as  noble  as  I  thought,"  said  Laura.  "I 
knew  why  you  hesitated  and  it  wasn't  for  yourself. 
But  I  knew  you  would  go." 


XXVI 

DEERING   TAKES   THE   TRAIL 

TANNARD  was  marked  by  a  superficial  languid- 
ness.  Strangers  thought  him  careless  and  his 
humorous  tranquillity  had  charm.  For  all  that,  when 
speed  was  important  he  moved  fast  and  after  he  tele- 
phoned to  the  station  he  got  to  work.  He  packed  ruck- 
sacks for  his  companions,  got  ropes  and  ice-axes,  and 
arranged  with  the  hotel  cook  to  put  up  a  supply  of 
food.  Then  he  sent  a  messenger  for  two  or  three  half- 
breeds  who  carried  loads  for  fishing  parties.  Stevens 
helped  and  admitted  that  Stannard  knew  his  job.  All 
he  did  was  carefully  thought  about. 

After  some  time  Dillon  joined  them  and  Stannard 
said,  "It's  awkward,  but  Willmer  at  Revelstoke  is  en- 
gaged. However,  he  states  he  can  send  us  a  useful 
man  and  we  are  to  meet  him  at  the  station.  He'll 
come  by  the  train  in  the  morning  and  we'll  get  on 
board.  We  ought  to  reach  the  railroad  hut  Jimmy 
talks  about  by  dark  and  if  the  night  is  clear  we'll 
push  on." 

"If  the  police  are  about  the  station  where  we  get 
off,  they  may  stop  us." 

"It's  possible,"  Stannard  agreed.  "Still  they  don't 
know  our  object  and  we  must  persuade  them  we  are 

mountaineering  tourists.     Boast  about  your  climbing 

236 


DEERING  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      237 

and  the  Canadian  Alpine  Club;  Stevens  knows  their 
exploits.  All  the  same,  I  imagine  the  police  are  in  the 
mountains.  Well,  your  sack  is  packed,  and  when  you 
have  got  your  snow-spectacles  and  the  grease  for  your 
skin,  we'll  stop  for  a  smoke." 

In  the  morning  the  half-breed  packers  arrived  and 
soon  afterwards  all  were  ready  to  start.  The  hotel 
servants  and  three  or  four  guests  came  to  see  them  go, 
but  when  the  others  strapped  on  their  loads  Stannard 
joined  Laura  on  the  steps. 

"Well,  we  are  going  to  Jimmy's  help,"  he  said  with 
a  smile.  "Frank  is  very  keen,  but  as  far  as  possible 
I'll  try  to  see  he  does  nothing  rash.  To  know  your 
marriage  is  fixed  is  some  comfort." 

Laura  looked  up  quickly.  Although  Stannard's 
smile  was  kind,  she  was  vaguely  disturbed. 

"When  Frank  wanted  the  wedding  soon  I  thought 
you  agreed  rather  easily.  I  was  satisfied  to  stay  with 
you  for  some  time." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Stannard.  "I'm  afraid  I  haven't 
carried  out  my  duties.  I'm  a  careless  fellow  and  feel 
my  daughter  does  not  owe  me  much.  Although  you 
have  grown  up  beautiful  and  attractive,  Nature  and 
your  aunts  are  accountable.  Then,  you  see,  I'm  get- 
ting old,  and  mountaineering  is  my  hobby.  Some- 
times one  slips  on  an  icy  rock — " 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that;  it  hurts,"  said  Laura 
with  a  touch  of  emotion.  "You  gave  me  all  I  asked 
for ;  you  have  always  indulged  me.  Then  I  urged  you 
to  go,  and  now  I  feel  I  ought  not  to  urge.  To  be  gen- 


238  NORTHWEST! 

erous  m  my  way  costs  one  nothing.  I  shall  not  venture 
on  the  rocks;  I  send  you." 

Stannard  laughed,  but  Laura,  studying  him,  was 
moved.  Her  father  was  handsome  and  wore  the  stamp 
of  high  cultivation.  Although  he  was  not  young,  he 
carried  himself  like  an  athlete.  She  knew  his  strength 
and  pluck  and  his  gentleness  to  her.  Now  she  thought 
him  fine  and  chivalrous. 

"You  follow  your  heart,"  he  said  and  kissed  her. 
Then  he  pulled  out  his  watch.  "But  I  must  not  be 
selfish  and  Frank  is  waiting." 

Dillon  advanced  and  Stannard  resumed :  "Youth  is 
romantic  and  sometimes  exaggerates.  Laura  imagines 
her  generosity  and  yours  accounts  for  my  starting  on 
our  adventure.  Well,  perhaps  I'm  slow  and  cautious, 
but  now  and  then  one  recaptures  a  touch  of  one's  boy- 
ish rashness.  However,  I  mustn't  philosophize.  We 
must  get  off  in  a  few  minutes." 

"I'll  join  you  on  the  trail,"  said  Dillon,  who  re- 
marked that  Stannard  implied  that  he  hesitated  to  go. 
Stannard  had  said  something  like  that  before,  as  if  he 
wanted  others  to  note  that  the  plan  was  not  his.  All 
the  same,  it  was  not  important,  and  Dillon  took  Laura's 
hand. 

Five  minutes  afterwards  the  party  started.  The 
packers  carried  the  heavy  loads,  the  others  the  ice- 
axes,  and  Stevens  and  Stannard  wore  round  their 
shoulders  coils  of  Alpine  rope.  Where  the  trail  turned 
they  stopped  for  a  moment  and  waved  their  hats,  and 
then  vanished  in  the  trees. 


DEERING  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      239 

Some  time  afterwards  Laura  saw  a  plume  of  black 
smoke  roll  across  the  pines  and  stole  off  to  her  room. 
She  did  not  want  Mrs.  Dillon's  comfort.  Her  father 
and  her  lover  had  started  for  the  rocks,  and  if  they 
paid  for  their  rashness,  she  was  accountable. 

In  the  morning  she  got  a  jar,  for  a  sergeant  of  the 
Royal  North- West  Police  arrived  at  the  hotel.  He  was 
polite  but  firm,  and  Laura  saw  she  must  brace  up. 
Mrs.  Dillon  had  gone  with  her  to  the  rotunda  and  to 
know  she  had  her  help  was  some  comfort. 

"Mr.  Stannard  started  for  the  mountains  yester- 
day," the  sergeant  remarked.  "He  took  a  quantity  of 
camp  truck  and  two  of  your  friends.  Where  did  he 

go?" 

"I  don't  altogether  know  his  line,"  Laura  replied. 
"When  you  climb  high  mountains  you  cannot  make 
fixed  plans.  Much  depends  on  the  snow." 

"Well,  I  expect  Mr.  Stannard  stated  where  he  meant 
to  start?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Dillon.  "He'd  get  off 
at  the  Green  River  depot." 

The  sergeant  remarked  her  frankness,  but  thought 
she  saw  some  frankness  was  indicated,  because  for  him 
to  find  out  where  the  party  had  got  off  was  not  hard. 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Stannard's  object?  Our  club- 
men go  for  the  rocks  in  summer.  His  starting  now 
was  strange." 

Laura  lifted  her  head  and  her  look  was  proud.  She 
thought  she  could  play  up  and  the  fellow  must  not  im- 
agine Stannard  had  gone  to  Jimmy's  help. 


240  NORTHWEST! 

"My  father  is  not  a  Canadian  clubman.  He's  a 
famous  Alpine  mountaineer  and  can  go  where  others 
cannot." 

"Our  boys  are  pretty  smart,"  said  the  sergeant,  smil- 
ing. "But  are  all  Mr.  Stannard's  party  expert  moun- 
taineers? Mr.  Stevens,  for  example?  And  Mr. 
Frank  Dillon?" 

"My  son,"  said  Mrs.  Dillon,  who  saw  the  other  had 
talked  to  the  hotel  clerk.  "Frank  knows  something 
about  the  rocks  and  belongs  to  a  club  that  explores  the 
Olympian  range.  We're  Americans." 

The  sergeant  bowed  politely,  but  she  resumed: 
"Mr.  Stannard's  English,  all  the  lot  are  tourists  and  I 
sure  can't  see  what  the  Canadian  police  have  to  do 
with  their  going  off  to  climb  your  rocks.  You're  not 
going  to  draw  strangers  to  the  country  if  you  bother 
them  like  that." 

"Sometimes  the  police's  duty  is  awkward,"  said  the' 
sergeant  in  an  apologetic  voice. 

"The  police  have  not  much  grounds  to  inquire  about 
my  father's  excursion,"  Laura  remarked  haughtily. 
"When  he  killed  the  big-horn  he  did  not  know  he 
poached  on  a  game  reserve,  but  he  paid  the  fine  and  it 
is  done  with." 

The  sergeant  saw  her  eyes  sparkled  and  she  was  not 
playing  a  part.  She  did  not  know  all  he  knew,  and 
he  must  not  enlighten  her. 

"Not  long  since  Mr.  Stannard  went  shooting  with 
the  pit-light,  which  is  not  allowed,  and  the  game-war- 
den was  shot." 


DEERING  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      241 

"My  father  did  not  shoot  the  warden;  he  stayed 
and  helped  the  police." 

"Three  of  his  party  pulled  out,"  the  sergeant  re- 
joined. "Maybe  Mr.  Leyland  could  put  us  wise  about 
the  shooting  and  we  reckoned  Mr.  Stannard  knows 
where  he  is." 

"Then  you  must  wait  for  his  return.  If  you  found 
his  track,  I  don't  suppose  you  could  follow  him  on  the 
rocks." 

"In  the  meantime,  you're  resolved  not  to  help  us 
hit  his  track?" 

"I  don't  know  his  track,"  Laura  replied. 

The  sergeant  went  off.  He  had  talked  to  the  hotel 
clerk,  and  although  he  had  not  found  out  much  from 
Laura,  he  had  found  out  something.  The  girl  was 
persuaded  Stannard  had  gone  to  help  Leyland,  and 
the  sergeant  thought  his  plan  really  was  to  help  the 
young  fellow  get  away.  In  fact,  the  sergeant  thought 
he  saw  Stannard's  object  for  doing  so. 

Laura,  however,  was  disturbed.  She  was  anxious 
for  Jimmy  and  knew  the  risks  Stannard  ran  in  the 
mountains,  but  she  imagined  she  had  baffled  the  ser- 
geant and  she  resigned  herself  to  wait  for  news. 

When  the  next  train  for  the  coast  rolled  across  the 
pass  Deering  was  on  board  a  first-class  car.  He  was 
dressed  like  a  city  sportsman,  but  his  clothes  were 
thick  and  his  shooting  jacket  was  lined  with  sheep- 
skin, for  Deering  knew  the  wilds.  When  he  went 
to  Vancouver  his  movements  interested  the  police,  but 
at  Calgary  they  left  him  alone,  and  nothing  indicated 


242  NORTHWEST! 

that  they  now  bothered  where  he  went.  Deering 
thought  it  strange,  unless  they  knew  something  he  did 
not. 

In  the  meantime,  he  was  occupied  by  another  sub- 
ject. Although  he  meant  to  see  Jimmy  out,  he  had 
frankly  no  use  for  hiding  much  longer  at  the  ranch. 
Jimmy  must  be  smuggled  across  the  boundary  to  the 
United  States  and  Deering  weighed  a  plan. 

When  he  got  down  at  the  station  he  meant  to  push 
on  for  Jardine's,  but  Kelshope  was  some  distance  off 
and  he  resolved  to  stop  at  the  hotel.  He  had  been 
for  some  time  at  Calgary  and  Stannard  would  per- 
haps know  if  Jimmy  was  all  right.  The  clerk  sent 
for  Laura  and  by  and  by  she  came  down.  She  gave 
Deering  a  cold  glance,  but  he  had  long  known  her 
antagonism. 

"You  cannot  see  my  father.  He  and  Frank  are 
in  the  mountains,"  she  said. 

Deering  knitted  his  brows.  When  winter  had  be- 
gun one  did  not  start  for  the  rocks  for  nothing. 

"It  looks  as  if  the  police  have  found  out  Jimmy  was 
at  his  ranch." 

"Then,  Jimmy  was  at  the  ranch  ?  We  didn't  know ; 
he  did  not  come  to  see  us.  I  expect  you  stopped 
him!" 

"You  don't  trust  me,  Miss  Laura.  Still  you  ought 
to  see  Jimmy  dared  not  come  to  the  hotel." 

"I  did  not  think  you  a  proper  friend  for  Jimmy  and 
Frank." 

Deering  smiled.     He  knew  he  was  a  better  friend 


DEERING  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      243 

of  Jimmy's  than  Stannard,  but  he  said,  "Oh,  well; 
perhaps  it's  not  important.  Anyhow,  Jimmy  trusts 
me,  and  I  mustn't  let  him  down.  You  imply  he's  not 
at  the  ranch?" 

Laura  told  him  about  Jimmy's  note,  and  he  inquired 
about  Stannard's  plans.  When  she  had  satisfied  his 
curiosity  his  look  was  thoughtful. 

"Stannard  will  send  back  the  packers  at  the  bottom 
of  the  rocks,"  he  remarked.  "Has  he  got  a  guide?" 

"He  could  not  engage  the  guide  he  wanted.  An- 
other man  about  whom  I  don't  think  he  knew  much 
was  sent." 

"Your  father  needs  a  useful  man.  Jimmy's  steady 
on  an  awkward  pitch,  but  sometimes  he's  rash.  The 
others  are  raw  boys.  It  looks  as  if  I've  got  to  hit 
the  trail." 

"Frank  is  not  a  boy,  and  my  father  is  a  famous 
climber,"  Laura  rejoined.  "If  he  cannot  cross  the 
mountains,  do  you  think  it's  possible  for  you?  Then 
you  ought  to  have  started  before.  The  police  have 
followed  Jimmy  for  some  time  and  I  think  another 
party  set  off  yesterday." 

Deering  thought  to  embarrass  him  gave  her  some 
satisfaction,  but  he  smiled. 

"I  know  you're  not  my  friend,  Miss  Laura,  and 
I  must  try  to  be  resigned.  All  the  same,  unless  you 
put  me  wise,  it  may  be  awkward  for  Jimmy.  What 
about  the  last  lot  of  police?" 

She  told  him  and  he  bowed.  "Thank  you!  I'll  get 
off." 


244  NORTHWEST! 

"But  the  sergeant  is  in  front  of  you  and  there  is 
not  a  train." 

"The  police  are  pretty  smart,  but  I've  known  them 
bluffed,"  Deering  remarked.  "Then  the  station  agent 
and  another  fellow  talked  about  a  construction  train's 
going  up  the  line.  I've  traveled  on  board  a  calaboose 
before." 

Laura  hesitated,  and  then  gave  him  her  hand. 
"After  all,  I  think  you  want  to  help,  and  if  you  agree 
to  leave  Frank  alone — " 

"I  rather  think  you  don't  know  your  power,"  Deer- 
ing  rejoined  with  a  twinkle.  "Frank  is  well  guarded 
from  all  my  wiles.  In  fact,  I'm  willing  to  give  you 
best." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Laura,  "perhaps  I  was  not  just." 

He  went  off  and  Laura  mused.  She  had  not  liked 
Deering.  He  was  a  gambler  and  exploited  the  ex- 
travagance of  rich  young  men.  Yet  Frank  trusted 
the  fellow  and  she  began  to  doubt  if  her  antagonism 
were  altogether  warranted.  For  one  thing,  Deering 
was  stanch,  and  his  pluck  was  rather  fine.  Her  father 
had  started  with  a  well-equipped  party;  Deering  went 
alone,  and  when  he  got  to  Green  Lake  must  baffle 
the  police.  Then  she  liked  his  humorous  politeness. 
He  knew  she  doubted  him,  but  he  was  not  revengeful. 
On  the  whole,  she  thought  when  she  gave  him  her 
hand  she  took  the  proper  line. 


XXVII 
DEERING'S  PROGRESS 

SOON  after  Deering  started  from  the  hotel  he  met 
Jardine.  Deering  knew  the  shrewd  Canadian 
Scots  and  thought  the  rancher  a  man  to  trust.  More- 
over he  had  not  yet  got  all  the  light  he  wanted. 
Jardine  was  on  foot  and  Deering  said,  "Hello!  It's 
a  long  hike  to  Kelshope.  Where's  your  horse?" 

"Margaret's  got  the  cayuse  at  Green  Lake.  D'ye 
no'  ken?" 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  Deering.  "But  you're  coming 
from  the  station.  When  do  they  expect  the  construc- 
tion train?" 

"She  stopped  doon  the  track  for  the  boys  to  fix 
some  rails.  The  operator  was  grumbling  because  she'd 
no'  get  through  till  dark  and  he'd  got  to  block  the  line 
for  the  Kamloops  freight." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Deering,  "since  I  want  to  get  on 
board  the  calaboose,  perhaps  her  stopping  in  the  dark 
is  not  a  drawback.  But  what  about  Miss  Margaret's 
going  to  Green  Lake?" 

Jardine  looked  at  him  rather  hard.  "I  alloo  ye're 
Mr.  Leyland's  friend?" 

"Sure  thing!"  said  Deering.  "Jimmy  reckons  you 
his  friend.  Well,  I  want  to  know  how  he  got  away." 

Jardine  told  him  and  Deering  pondered.     He  had 

245 


246  NORTHWEST! 

undertaken  an  awkward  job,  and  since  he  saw  some 
obstacles,  he  resolved  to  give  the  rancher  his  con- 
fidence. Among  the  trees  the  frost  was  not  keen  and 
the  sun  was  on  the  road.  Deering  indicated  a  spruce 
log  and  pulled  out  some  cigars. 

"Suppose  we  take  a  smoke  and  talk,"  he  said,  and 
when  Jardine  lighted  a  cigar  resumed:  "Won't  Miss 
Margaret's  shooting  the  fellow's  horse  make  trouble 
for  her?" 

"I  reckon  not,"  said  Jardine,  who  had  heard  the 
trooper's  statement,  and  when  he  got  a  note  from 
Margaret  remarked  that  the  narratives  did  not  agree. 
"I'm  thinking  the  boys  dinna  mean  to  pit  it  on  Mar- 
garet and  the  trooper's  no'  altogether  prood." 

"It's  possible.  But  why  didn't  you  put  Jimmy 
wise?" 

"I'd  cut  my  foot  chopping,  a  day  or  two  before." 

Deering  rather  doubted  if  Jardine's  cutting  his  foot 
accounted  for  all,  but  he  said,  "Let's  talk  straight! 
I  suppose  Miss  Margaret  is  going  to  marry  Leyland  ?" 

"Maybe,  but  I  dinna  ken.  Jimmy  wanted  to  marry 
her." 

"Very  well,"  said  Deering.  "I'll  tell  you  all  I 
know." 

He  narrated  his  interview  with  Laura  and  Stan- 
nard's  going  to  Jimmy's  help.  Jardine's  look  got 
thoughtful  and  sometimes  he  frowned.  When  Deer- 
ing stopped  he  said,  "Ye  dinna  trust  Stannard !  Ye'd 
sooner  Jimmy  hadna  gone  across  the  rocks  wi'  him  ?" 

"I    would   sooner   he   had   not,"    Deering   agreed. 


DEERING'S  PROGRESS  247 

"Jimmy  trusts  Stannard,  the  others  are  tenderfoots, 
and  I  understand  they  have  not  a  first-class  guide." 

"The  man  they've  got  is  no'  a  mountain  guide  ava; 
Gillane's  a  packer  on  the  Government  surveys.  But 
I  dinna  see  much  light  yet.  Jimmy  owes  Stannard  a 
guid  sum." 

"Leyland  insured  his  life  in  Stannard's  favor  and 
Stannard  wants  money.  Well,  I'm  going  up  the  line 
with  the  construction  gang  to  follow  the  party's  trail." 

Jardine  got  up  and  his  look  was  very  grim.  "Just 
that!  I'll  join  ye." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Deering.  "Your  part's  to  go  to 
Green  River  depot  afterwards  and  watch  out.  I  expect 
you're  a  good  bushman,  but  this  is  a  job  for  a  first- 
class  mountaineer.  Besides,  you  cut  your  foot!" 

Jardine  gave  him  a  keen  glance,  but  Deering  re- 
sumed. "You  see,  I  must  hit  up  the  pace  and  can't 
boost  you  along.  Can  I  hire  a  young  man,  a  pros- 
pector if  possible,  at  Green  River?" 

The  other's  arguments  did  not  move  him  and  by 
and  by  Jardine  resigned  himself  to  stay  behind. 

"I'm  thinking  my  nephew,  Peter,  is  the  man  ye 
want.  Whiles  he  goes  to  the  depot  for  his  groceries 
and  mail.  The  storekeeper  will  ken  if  he's  aboot. 
Ye  can  tell  Peter  I  sent  ye  to  him." 

After  a  few  minutes  Deering  went  off,  but  he  went 
slowly  and  did  not  keep  the  road  to  the  station.  Join- 
ing the  line  two  or  three  miles  down  the  valley,  he 
found  a  track-grader's  tool  hut  and  went  in  and 
smoked.  The  hut  was  cold,  but  Deering's  fur  coat 


248  NORTHWEST! 

was  thick  and  good.  When  dusk  began  to  fall  he 
walked  along  the  track  and  stopped  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  from  the  station. 

By  and  by  a  light  twinkled  like  a  star  in  the  gloom 
of  the  woods.  A  steady  throb  rolled  up  the  valley, 
and  presently  Deering  distinguished  a  locomotive's 
measured  snorts  and  the  rumble  of  wheels.  The  star 
was  now  a  dazzling  moon,  and  its  reflections  picked 
out,  far  in  advance,  glittering  rails  and  frost-spangled 
trees.  When  the  locomotive  was  level  with  Deering 
he  began  to  run  up  the  line,  and  soon  after  the  train 
stopped  he  got  behind  the  last  car. 

He  knew  the  company's  rules,  but  he  knew  some- 
thing about  train-gangs,  and  he  had  ready  a  few  dollar 
bills.  Although  the  station  agent  did  not  see  him 
get  on  board,  when  the  train  rolled  up  the  track  he 
occupied  a  box  in  front  of  the  calaboose  stove.  The 
men  gave  him  supper,  and  when  he  had  drained  a  can 
of  strong  coffee  he  pulled  out  some  cards  and  showed 
how  an  expert  puzzled  his  antagonists. 

Cold  draughts  swept  the  rocking  calaboose,  the 
stove  roared,  and  one  smelt  locomotive  smoke.  La- 
bored snorts  echoed  in  the  rocks,  couplings  rang,  and 
when  the  train  sped  across  a  bridge  the  roll  of  wheels 
drowned  Deering's  voice.  Deering  smiled  and  waited 
for  the  noise  to  stop.  He  had  undertaken  a  daunting 
job  and  was  bothered  about  Jimmy,  but  in  the  mean- 
time he  owed  something  to  his  hosts  and  he  played 
up.  Although  Deering  had  some  drawbacks,  his  rule 
was  to  play  up. 


DEERING'S  PROGRESS  249 

A  number  of  the  men  had  long  studied  cards  and 
could  bluff  on  a  poor  hand.  Three  or  four  won  reg- 
ularly some  part  of  their  companions'  wages,  but  they 
knew  a  master's  touch  and  for  a  time  Deering  held 
the  group.  Then  he  lighted  his  pipe  and  began  to 
talk  about  something  else.  He  found  out  that  the 
train  ran  between  a  gravel  pit  and  Green  River.  The 
men  were  filling  up  a  trestle  and  cutting  out  an  awk- 
ward curve. 

"Have  they  got  a  hotel  at  the  settlement?"  Deering 
inquired. 

"They've  no  use  for  a  hotel  at  Green  River.  Some- 
times a  rancher  comes  in  for  his  mail  and  a  survey 
party  jumps  off.  I  guess  that's  all.  You  can  stop 
at  the  post  office.  The  man  who  keeps  it  runs  a  small 
store." 

"Nothing  much  doing  yet,"  Deering  remarked.  "Do 
the  mounted  policemen  come  to  the  settlement?" 

A  big  shovel-man  laughed.  "They're  getting  busy 
around  Green  River.  Two  lots  came  in  not  long  since 
and  a  trooper's  there  now,  but  he  won't  bother  you. 
Looks  as  if  he  was  sent  to  watch  out  for  somebody 
who  wanted  to  get  on  the  train." 

"Then,  you  reckon  they're  after  somebody  in  the 
rocks?"  said  Deering  carelessly. 

"That's  so,"  another  agreed.  "I  wouldn't  bet  much 
on  the  fellow's  chance!  When  we  ran  up  with  the 
last  load,  a  police  outfit  was  starting  for  the  range. 
Three  or  four  troopers  and  a  pack-horse.  They'd 
loaded  up  some  truck." 


250  NORTHWEST! 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Deering.  "The  Royal  North-West 
are  smart  boys,  but  I've  known  them  beat.  However, 
I've  been  for  some  time  on  the  road  and  think  I'll 
go  to  bed.  Can  somebody  give  me  a  bunk?" 

They  gave  him  a  bunk,  and  for  an  hour  or  two 
he  slept;  he  knew  it  might  be  long  before  he  slept 
warm  again.  When  he  awoke  the  locomotive  bell 
was  tolling  and  the  roll  of  wheels  was  getting  slack. 
The  calaboose  was  very  cold,  and  Deering,  jumping 
from  his  bunk,  went  to  the  open  door. 

In  front  a  fire  burned  by  a  water  tank  and  the  beam 
from  the  headlamp  flickered  across  a  small  clearing 
and  touched  a  wooden  house.  Farther  off,  a  big  blast- 
lamp  threw  up  a  pillar  of  flame.  The  light  tossed 
and  for  a  few  moments  all  was  shadowy.  Then  the 
strong  illumination  leaped  up  again,  and  Deering  saw 
a  man  who  carried  a  short  rifle  walk  along  the  line. 
He  knew  the  Royal  North-West  uniform. 

Deering  picked  up  his  fur  coat  and  hesitated.  In 
the  mountains  one  must  wear  proper  clothes  and  the 
coat  was  good,  but  unless  he  could  cheat  the  trooper 
he  might  not  reach  the  mountains.  He  touched  the 
man  who  had  given  him  the  bunk. 

"I'll  trade  my  coat  and  cap  for  yours." 

The  fellow's  skin  coat  and  cap  were  old,  and  he 
looked  at  Deering  with  surprise. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  trade?  A  track-grader 
doesn't  buy  Revillon  furs." 

Deering  indicated  the  trooper.  "The  policeman 
might  calculate  something  like  that,  but  I  expect  he 


DEERING'S  PROGRESS  251 

knows  you  belong  to  the  gang.  You  are  going  to 
dump  some  rails  and  for  half  an  hour  I  want  a  job." 

"Now  I  get  you!"  said  the  other. 

He  pulled  off  his  shabby  coat,  and  when  the  train 
stopped  and  Deering  jumped  down  nothing  distin- 
guished him  from  the  construction  gang.  Climbing  on 
to  a  flat  car,  he  joined  the  men  who  threw  down  the 
rails,  and  presently  saw  the  trooper  stop  the  fellow 
who  wore  his  coat  and  cap.  He  did  not  know  how 
the  railroad  man  accounted  for  his  wearing  good 
furs,  but  he  was  obviously  a  track-grader  and  after 
a  few  moments  the  trooper  let  him  go.  Then  the  train 
rolled  up  the  line  and  Deering  stayed  with  the  men 
who  moved  the  rails. 

By  and  by  the  trooper  walked  past  the  gang,  glanced 
at  the  men  carelessly,  and,  turning  back,  vanished  in 
the  gloom.  Deering  thought  him  satisfied  nobody  but 
the  track-graders  was  about,  and  soon  afterwards  he 
started  for  the  house.  So  far,  he  had  trusted  his 
luck,  but  he  wanted  help  and  must  get  food.  More- 
over, he  must  not  excite  the  storekeeper's  curiosity. 

A  clump  of  pines  cut  the  illumination  up  the  track. 
Sometimes  when  the  blast-lamp's  flame  leaped  up, 
bright  reflections  touched  the  house,  but  for  the  most 
part,  the  ground  in  front  was  dark.  When  Deering 
was  near  the  door,  a  man  came  out  and  stopped  for 
a  few  moments.  Deering  thought  him  a  rancher  and 
when  he  went  down  the  steps  met  him  at  the  bottom. 

"Can  I  buy  some  flour  and  groceries?"  he  asked. 

"You  might,"  said  the  other  and  looked  at  Deering 


252  NORTHWEST! 

as  if  he  thought  the  inquiry  strange.  "Why  do  you 
want  groceries?  Where  are  you  going?" 

Deering  saw  something  must  be  risked  and  when  a 
risk  must  be  run  he  did  not  hesitate. 

"If  I  can  find  the  trail,  I'm  going  up  the  valley. 
Peter  Jardine  has  a  ranch  at  the  lake,  I  think?" 

"That's  so,"  said  the  other.    "I'm  Peter  Jardine !" 

Deering  laughed.  His  luck  had  not  turned  and 
when  the  reflections  from  the  blast-lamp  touched  the 
rancher's  face  he  thought  he  had  got  the  proper  man. 

"Then,  as  soon  as  you  can  get  me  some  groceries, 
I'll  start  for  the  rocks.  Your  uncle  sent  me  along  and 
stated  you  would  help.  You  see,  I'm  Jimmy  Leyland's 
partner  and  Miss  Margaret's  friend." 

"Ah,"  said  Peter,  "you're  Deering?  Well,  the 
police  are  after  Jimmy.  For  some  days  two  troopers 
hunted  for  his  tracks  and  then  a  sergeant  and  an- 
other came  in  on  the  train  and  started  off  as  if  they 
knew  where  he  was.  In  the  meantime,  a  sports  outfit 
hit  the  trail,  but  I  didn't  meet  up  with  them.  I  made 
the  station  in  the  afternoon  and  didn't  know  what  I 
ought  to  do.  In  fact,  when  you  came  along,  I  was 
wondering  if  I'd  pull  out  for  the  ranch." 

"You're  coming  with  me.  I  don't  want  to  boast, 
but  I'm  a  mountain  clubman  and  on  the  rocks  I  reckon 
I  can  beat  the  police." 

"But  Jimmy's  friends  got  off  in  front  of  the 
troopers." 

"There's  the  trouble;  they're  not  all  his  friends," 
Deering  rejoined.  "On  the  whole,  I'd  sooner  the 


DEERING'S  PROGRESS  253 

police  got  him  than  he  crossed  the  range  with  the 
other  lot.  But  we'll  talk  about  this  again.  When  can 
you  start?" 

"I  can  start  as  soon  as  my  horse  is  loaded  up,  but 
we  have  got  to  bluff  the  policeman.  He  mustn't  see 
us  take  the  mountain  trail.  Well,  I've  pork  and  flour 
and  groceries.  Have  you  got  all  you  want?" 

"I  want  a  Hudson's  Bay  blanket  and  a  pack-rope," 
said  Deering  and  gave  Peter  a  roll  of  bills.  "Then 
you  had  better  buy  a  frying-pan  and  grub-hoe." 

"Very  well.  Go  ahead  up  the  trail  across  the  clear- 
ing and  wait  for  me  by  the  creek,"  said  Peter  and  re- 
turned to  the  store. 

After  a  time  he  rejoined  Deering  and  tied  his  loaded 
horse  to  a  branch. 

"The  storekeeper  knows  I  hit  the  Green  Lake  trail, 
and  we  don't  want  the  cayuse.  When  we  have  sorted 
out  the  truck  we  need,  he'll  make  the  ranch  all  right. 
Light  the  lantern  and  we'll  fix  our  packs." 

Deering  lighted  the  lantern  and  after  a  few  minutes 
strapped  a  bag  of  food  on  his  back.  He  pushed  his 
folded  blanket  through  the  straps,  gave  Peter  the  rope, 
and  picked  up  the  grub-hoe,  a  Canadian  digging  tool 
very  like  a  mountaineer's  ice-ax.  Then  they  put  out 
the  light,  let  the  horse  go,  and  went  back  quietly  to 
the  railroad.  Nobody  was  about,  and  stealing  across 
the  line,  they  plunged  into  the  gloom. 

"My  luck's  good,"  said  Deering.  "When  I  think 
about  all  we're  up  against,  I  sure  want  it  good." 


XXVIII 

A   DISSOLVING   PICTURE 

A  FTER  a  time  Deering  stopped  and  looked  about. 
-*•  ^  The  stones  on  the  river  bank  were  large  and 
sharp,  the  night  was  dark,  and  his  load  embarrassed 
him.  In  the  distance,  he  saw  a  small  red  fire;  a  dim 
light  marked  the  post  office,  and  the  reflections  from 
the  blast-lamp  quivered  behind  the  trees.  Deering  got 
his  breath  and  braced  up. 

Born  in  the  bush,  he  had  known  poverty  and  stern 
physical  toil.  He  was  a  good  mountaineer,  but  he 
admitted  that  his  two  hundred  pounds  was  something 
of  a  load  to  carry  across  icy  rocks.  Then  he  had, 
for  the  most  part,  lived  extravagantly  at  fashionable 
hotels,  and  his  big  muscles  were  soft;  but  this  was 
not  all.  The  distant  lights  stood  for  human  society 
and  civilization.  Deering  was  very  human  and  fought 
against  an  atavistic  shrinking  from  the  dark  and  lone- 
liness. Moreover,  he  knew  the  wilds.  For  all  that, 
he  meant  to  conquer  his  shrinking. 

He  admitted  that  he  was  perhaps  a  romantic  senti- 
mentalist and  his  adventure  did  not  harmonize  with 
his  occupation.  Sometimes,  however,  one  was  not 
logical  and  not  long  since  he  would  have  plunged  down 

the  rocks  but   for  Jimmy's  pluck.     Besides  he   saw 

254 


A  DISSOLVING  PICTURE  255 

Stannard  had  used  him  to  entangle  the  lad.  Deering 
had  his  rude  code,  but  Stannard  had  none.  He  was 
cold  and  calculating,  and  Deering  thought  he  meant 
to  carry  out  the  plan  he  tried  before  when  he  sent 
Jimmy  over  the  neck.  Although  Deering  did  not  like 
the  job,  he  meant  to  baffle  him. 

In  the  meantime,  all  was  quiet  but  for  the  turmoil 
of  the  river  a  few  yards  off.  Dark  pines  occupied 
the  narrow  level  belt  by  the  track,  and  on  the  other 
side  vague  blurred  rocks  went  up.  Thin  mist  drifted 
about,  and  the  line,  running  downhill,  melted  into  the 
gloom.  The  trooper  was  at  the  station  and  Deering 
imagined  nobody  was  about. 

"The  stones  are  sharp  and  slippery,"  he  said. 
"We'll  take  the  track  and  push  on  for  the  section- 
hut." 

They  got  on  the  line,  but  did  not  progress  fast.  The 
gravel  ballast  was  large  and  hurt  their  feet;  the  ties 
were  not  evenly  spaced.  Sometimes  Deering  stepped 
on  the  timber  and  sometimes  on  the  loose  stones. 
Then  numerous  ravines  pierced  the  rocks,  and  although 
the  construction  gangs  had  begun  to  fill  up  the  chasms, 
for  the  most  part  wooden  trestles  spanned  the  gaps. 
To  cross  an  open-work  trestle  in  the  dark  is  awkward, 
and  when  Deering  balanced  on  a  narrow  tie  and  looked 
for  the  next,  he  sweated  and  breathed  hard.  On  one 
trestle  he  stopped.  Sixty  feet  below  him,  he  saw  the 
foam  of  an  angry  torrent ;  the  next  tie  was  some  dis- 
tance off,  and  the  wood  sparkled  with  frost. 

In  a  sense,  his  adventure  was  ridiculous.     When 


256  NORTHWEST! 

hd  used  the  railroad  he  went  on  board  a  first-class 
car  and  checked  his  baggage.  Now  he  stumbled  over 
the  ballast  and  carried  on  his  back  all  he  could  not 
go  without.  In  the  meantime,  however,  he  must  cross 
the  trestle,  and  he  trusted  his  luck  and  jumped. 

He  got  across  and  after  three  or  four  hours  they 
reached  the  section-shack.  Graham  was  in  bed,  but 
he  gDt  up  and  told  them  all  they  wanted  to  know. 
Three  policemen  with  an  Indian  and  a  pack-horse 
had  come  down  the  track  and  Graham  imagined  they 
had  found  the  entrance  to  Jimmy's  valley.  He  reck- 
oned they  would  send  back  the  Indian  and  the  horse 
when  they  took  the  rocks,  but  the  fellow  had  not  yet 
returned.  Peter  was  puzzled  about  the  Indian. 

"They  didn't  hire  him  up  at  the  station,"  he  re- 
marked. "Looks  as  if  they'd  fixed  it  for  him  to  meet 
them." 

"It  looks  as  if  they'd  made  their  plans  and  their 
plans  were  pretty  good,"  said  Deering.  "However, 
since  they've  got  a  loaded  horse,  they  can't  shove  on 
fast.  How  long  was  the  other  outfit  in  front  ?" 

Graham  told  him  and  for  a  few  moments  Deering 
pondered.  Then  he  said,  "It's  awkward!  Stannard 
knows  where  Jimmy  is,  and  he'll  hit  up  the  pace.  I 
reckon  the  police  don't  know  and  must  look  for  his 
tracks.  If  we  hustle,  we'll  run  up  against  the  gang." 

The  difficulty  was  obvious  and  Peter  frowned. 

"We  might  get  by  their  camp  in  the  dark.  We'd 
see  the  fire." 

"I  doubt,"  Deering  rejoined.     "If  the  boys  make  a 


A  DISSOLVING  PICTURE  257 

fire,  they'll  make  it  where  the  light  is  hid.  They  don't 
want  to  put  Jimmy  wise." 

"Well?"  said  Peter.    "What  is  your  plan?" 

Deering  laughed,  a  noisy  laugh,  for  now  he  had 
started,  his  hesitation  vanished. 

"We'll  trust  our  luck  and  shove  ahead.  In  the 
morning  we'll  get  up  the  rocks  and  look  about.  I've 
brought  my  glasses.  Let's  get  going." 

Graham  gave  them  directions  and  when  they  climbed 
a  steep  hill  they  found  the  valley.  The  ground  was 
broken  and  in  places  covered  by  tangled  brush,  but 
they  made  progress  and  at  daybreak  labored  across 
the  snow  to  the  top  of  a  spur.  Deering  sat  on  his 
pack  and  used  his  prismatic  glasses. 

Gray  cloud  floated  about  the  mountain  slopes,  but 
the  high  peaks  were  sharp  and  began  to  shine  in  the 
rising  sun.  Some  were  rose-pink  and  some  were  yel- 
low; the  hollows  between  their  broken  tops  were  gray 
and  blue.  A  map  of  the  mountains  occupied  a  wall 
of  the  hotel  rotunda,  and  Deering,  using  his  glasses, 
imagined  it  roughly  accurate. 

"I  expect  the  blue  gap  is  the  head  of  the  valley," 
he  remarked  and  when  Peter  nodded  resumed :  "We'll 
allow  Stannard  joined  Jimmy  ahead  of  the  police  and 
took  him  along.  We  have  got  to  hit  their  line  and 
this  is  not  as  hard  as  it  looks.  They  can't  steer 
for  the  shoulder  of  the  big  peak ;  the  rocks  won't  go 
and  I  see  an  ugly  ice-fall  on  the  glacier.  I  reckon 
I'd  head  back,  obliquely,  for  the  col,  up  the  long 
arrete" 


258  NORTHWEST! 

"I  dbn't  use  no  habitant  French,"  Peter  observed. 

"Oh,  well.  Our  clubmen  have  begun  to  use  the 
tourists'  talk,"  said  Deering  and  gave  Peter  the  glasses. 
"Anyway,  you  see  the  ridge  that  runs  up  to  the  neck  ?" 

Peter  studied  the  ridge.  He  had  hunted  mountain 
sheep  and  imagined  sun  and  frost  had  worn  the  rocks 
to  something  like  a  knife-edge.  In  places,  sharp  pin- 
nacles broke  the  top,  and  he  thought  it  significant  that 
for  the  most  part  the  snow  did  not  lie.  The  shadow 
behind  the  top,  no  doubt,  marked  a  great  precipitous 
gulf,  but  the  farther  end  of  the  ridge  touched  a  white 
hollow  between  two  peaks.  If  one  could  get  across, 
one  might  find  a  glacier  going  down  the  other  side. 

"I  reckon  your  friends  couldn't  make  it  between 
sun-up  and  dark,"  he  said.  "Anyhow,  the  police  would 
see  them  on  the  rocks." 

"Stannard  might  hit  a  line  a  few  yards  below  the 
top,  but  I  imagine  the  clouds  will  soon  roll  up.  Give 
me  the  glasses.  I  want  to  locate  a  gully  that  goes 
for  some  distance  up  the  ridge." 

Peter  saw  his  object.  The  long  ridge  ran  back 
obliquely  from  farther  up  the  valley  and  to  get  up 
by  the  line  Deering  marked  would  cut  out  the  corner. 
Moreover  Peter  imagined  the  police  had  reached 
Jimmy's  hut,  and  if  they  found  the  tracks  of  Stan- 
nard's  party,  they  would  climb  the  ridge  from  the 
other  end.  In  consequence,  Deering's  going  up  the 
gully  would  put  him  in  front. 

"I  guess  we'll  start.    When  we  noon  we'll  be  nearer, 


A  DISSOLVING  PICTURE  259 

and  if  the  mist's  not  thick,  you  can  look  for  the  line 
you  want." 

They  went  down  the  hill,  and  by  and  by  the  cloud 
rolled  up  the  slope,  and  rocks  and  peaks  were  lost 
in  gloom.  Then  Deering  began  to  get  tired,  for  al- 
though there  was  no  snow  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
the  ground  was  rough.  After  an  hour  or  two  he 
pushed  into  the  timber  and  stopped. 

"Perhaps  it's  risky,  but  I've  got  to  eat  and  take  a 
rest,"  he  said.  "The  trees  are  pretty  thick,  and  if 
the  smoke  goes  up,  the  hill's  a  good  background." 

They  cooked  some  food  and  then  sat  by  the  fire. 
Not  far  off  the  belt  of  trees  was  broken,  and  pres- 
ently Deering  saw  the  cloud  had  got  thin  and  begun 
to  roll  back,  up  the  mountains.  Vague  rocks  pierced 
the  vapor  and  grew  distinct;  the  mist  trailed  away 
from  battered  trees  and  slanted  fields  of  snow.  For 
a  time  it  clung  about  the  high  dark  precipices,  and 
then  one  saw  the  snow-packed  gullies  seam  the  crags 
like  marble  veins.  A  faint  light  pierced  the  vapor, 
and  the  broken  top  of  the  ridge  began  to  cut  the  back- 
ground. 

Deering  pulled  out  his  glasses  and  went  to  the  open- 
ing in  the  wood.  The  light  was  getting  stronger,  but 
he  did  not  think  the  cloud  would  altogether  melt  and 
he  must  search  the  rocks  while  search  was  possible. 
By  and  by  a  beam  touched  the  ridge  and  the  snow 
glimmered  like  pale  gold  against  blue  shadow.  Above 
the  shadow  were  broken  peaks,  but  the  belt  of  dark 


260  NORTHWEST! 

blue  indicated  a  gap  and  Deering,  noting  the  strong 
color,  thought  the  gap  profound. 

The  landscape,  lighted  by  the  unsteady  beam,  was 
strangely  beautiful.  The  pale  illumination  did  not 
travel  far  and  the  rocks  outside  its  reach  owed  some- 
thing of  their  mysterious  grandeur  to  the  contrast. 
Deering,  however,  was  not  romantic  and  thought  he 
saw  a  line,  across  a  steep,  white  slope  and  up  a  buttress, 
to  the  ridge.  If  he  could  get  up,  he  would  cut  Stan- 
nard's  track  and  imagined  he  would  not  be  much  be- 
hind the  party. 

He  concentrated  on  the  ridge.  The  slope  along  the 
top  was  not  even  but  went  up,  rather  like  a  terraced 
walk.  Rocky  buttresses  supported  the  terraces,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  the  stones  were  free  from  snow; 
Deering  knew  this  indicated  a  very  steep  pitch.  One 
buttress  was  marked  by  a  broad  white  band,  and  when 
he  rubbed  the  glasses  he  thought  he  saw  on  the  snow 
a  small  object  he  had  not  remarked  before.  The  object 
moved,  and  calling  Peter,  he  gave  him  the  glasses. 

"What's  that  ?    A  cinnamon  ?" 

"The  bears  have  come  down,"  said  Peter.  "The 
big-horn  have  gone  for  the  low  benches.  I  guess  the 
thing's  a  man." 

Deering  agreed  and  waited.  Perhaps  it  was  strange, 
but  of  all  the  animals,  civilized  man  alone  was  willing 
to  front  the  cold  on  the  daunting  heights.  The  ridge, 
outlined  against  a  vague  background  of  majestic  peaks, 
looked  as  remote  as  another  world.  To  imagine  flesh 


A  DISSOLVING  PICTURE  261 

and  blood  could  reach  it  was  hard,  but  Deering  meant 
to  try  and  knew  Stannard's  calculating  steadiness.  If 
one  went  carefully,  studying  the  obstacles,  and  using 
the  ax  and  rope — 

"It's  a  man  all  right.  I  see  another,"  said  Jardine 
and  gave  Deering  the  glasses.  Deering  saw  three  men. 
They  advanced  very  slowly,  and  he  pictured  their  cut- 
ting steps  before  they  moved.  One  crossed  the  snow- 
belt  and  vanished.  When  he  was  anchored  in  the  rocks 
he  would  steady  his  companions.  Deering  knew  it 
was  Stannard,  for  Stannard  would  not  trust  a  poor 
guide  at  a  spot  like  that.  The  others,  perhaps,  were 
Dillon  and  Stevens.  Then  he  saw  two  more ;  Gillane, 
the  packer,  and  Jimmy.  Anyhow,  Stannard  had 
started  with  three  companions  and  now  he  had  four. 
Deering  knew  all  he  wanted  to  know. 

He  watched  the  party,  strung  out  at  even  distances, 
move  across  the  white  band;  and  then  the  figures 
melted.  They  had  not  reached  the  other  side,  but  when 
he  rubbed  his  glasses  they  were  gone.  The  peaks  in 
the  background  vanished,  the  ridge  got  indistinct,  and 
the  black  pines  on  the  lower  snow-fields  faded,  as  if 
a  curtain  were  drawn  across  the  picture. 

Deering  shut  his  glasses  and  went  for  his  pack. 
The  mist  was  not  thick  and  he  knew  his  line  to  the 
buttress. 

"Put  out  the  fire  and  let's  get  off,"  he  said. 

"You  can't  cross  the  ridge  in  the  dark  and  the 
cold's  going  to  be  fierce,"  Peter  remarked. 


262  NORTHWEST! 

"That  is  so.  I  doubt  if  Stannard  can  make  the 
neck,  but  if  he  gets  there,  he  must  wait  for  morning. 
Maybe  we'll  find  a  hole  in  the  rocks." 

Peter  said  nothing.  He  had  engaged  to  go  where 
the  other  went  and  must  try  to  make  good,  although 
the  road  was  daunting.  In  thick  timber,  a  bushman 
can  front  biting  cold;  but  on  the  high,  icy  rocks  one 
could  not  make  camp  and  light  a  fire.  If  their  luck 
were  very  good,  they  might  find  a  hole  behind  a  stone, 
in  which  they  must  wait  for  daybreak  and  try  not  to 
freeze. 

He  put  out  the  fire  and  when  they  went  through 
the  wood  pondered  gloomily.  To  reach  the  neck  would 
cost  them  much;  but  to  get  there  was  not  all.  They 
must  get  down  on  the  other  side,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  the  mountain  tops  were  tremendous  precipices. 
Peter  rather  thought  the  neck  opened  on  a  glacier,  but 
sometimes  a  glacier  is  broken  by  awkward  ice-falls. 

All  the  same,  Peter  set  his  mouth  and  pushed  ahead. 
In  the  valley,  he  could  hit  up  the  pace  for  Deering, 
but  he  imagined  to  follow  the  big  fellow  on  the  rocks 
was  another  thing.  When  a  bushman  took  the  rocks 
he  went  to  shoot  big-horn  and  bear.  The  mountain 
clubmen  studied  climbing  as  one  studies  the  ball-game. 


XXIX 

HELD  UP 

A  FEW  pale  stars  were  in  the  sky  and  the  moon  was 
-*•*•  over  a  vague,  gray  peak.  Deering  shivered,  beat 
his  numbed  hands,  and  looked  about.  The  frost  was 
keen  and  he  had  not  thought  he  could  sleep,  but  when 
he  looked  about  before  the  stars  were  bright  and 
the  moon  was  not  above  the  peak.  In  front,  the  but- 
tress cut  the  sky,  and  although  the  rocks  were  indis- 
tinct, he  saw  the  belt  of  snow  Stannard  had  crossed. 
Since  Stannard  had  got  his  party  up  the  buttress,  Deer- 
ing  imagined  he  could  get  up ;  but  the  rocks  were  awk- 
ward. 

Deering  wore  the  railroad  man's  skin  coat  and  a 
thick  Hudson's  Bay  blanket.  For  climbing  their 
weight  was  an  embarrassment,  but  he  would  sooner 
carry  the  load  than  freeze.  Although  he  lay  with 
his  shoulders  against  Jardine,  he  was  numb,  and  the 
outside  of  the  blanket  sparkled  with  frost.  A  tilted 
slab  partly  covered  them,  but  the  gravel  in  the  hole 
was  frozen  and  Deer  ing's  hip- joint  hurt.  The  worst 
trouble  was.  when  he  was  very  cold  his  brain  got  dull 
and  he  hated  to  use  effort.  Yet  effort  was  needed, 
for  day  had  begun  to  break  and  he  must  cross  the 
neck  by  dark.  To  stop  another  night  on  the  high  rocks 
was  unthinkable  and  he  knew  his  luck  might  turn.  If 

263 


264  NORTHWEST! 

thick  snow  fell  or  a  strong  wind  blew,  he  and  Peter 
would  stay  on  the  rocks  for  good. 

Moreover,  Jimmy  was  in  front,  and  Deering  thought 
Jimmy  ran  a  daunting  risk.  He  ought  to  get  up  and 
start,  but  he  shrank  from  the  frost,  and  for  a  minute 
or  two  he  weighed  his  grounds  for  doubting  Stannard. 
Jimmy  owed  Stannard  a  large  sum  and  had  insured 
his  life.  If  he  went  over  a  precipice,  the  company 
would  pay  Stannard.  Deering  admitted  the  argument 
looked  ridiculous;  Stannard  was  highly  cultivated, 
rather  extravagant  than  greedy,  and  not  at  all  the 
man  to  plan  a  revolting  crime.  Yet  he  had  not  en- 
gaged a  proper  guide  and  his  companions  were  trustful 
young  fellows  whom  he  could  mislead.  Moreover,  he 
had  gone  down  into  a  snow-swept  gully  to  help  Leyland 
and  knew  this  would  weigh.  Stannard  had  then  ex- 
pected Jimmy  to  marry  Laura. 

Deering  pushed  Peter,  who  woke  up  and  grumbled. 
Deering  open  his  pack  awkwardly  and  pulled  out  a 
bannock  and  some  canned  meat. 

"Day  is  breaking.  When  you  have  had  your  break- 
fast we  must  start." 

"Unless  I  get  a  hot  drink,  I've  not  much  use  for 
breakfast,"  Peter  replied.  "When  do  you  reckon  we'll 
get  down  to  the  timber?  When  I  camp  I  like  a  fire." 

"Depends  on  our  luck,"  said  Deering,  dryly.  "I 
doubt  if  you'll  make  a  fire  to-night." 

"If  I  wasn't  a  fool,  I'd  go  right  back.  Stannard's 
most  a  day's  hike  ahead.  Then  if  the  police  have  hit 
his  trail,  they're  not  far  behind  us." 


HELD  UP  265 

"We  cut  out  some  ground  and  on  the  rocks  two 
men  go  faster  than  five.  Stannard  must  find  a  line 
for  his  gang  and  us.  Then  I  expect  he'll  be  held  up 
for  a  time  at  the  neck.  I  don't  know  where  the  police 
are." 

Peter  ate  the  bannock  and  put  on  his  pack.  "Well, 
let's  get  going!" 

The  light  was  not  yet  good.  Their  muscles  were 
stiff,  physical  fatigue  reacted  on  their  nervous  strength, 
and  at  the  belt  of  snow  they  stopped.  The  belt  was 
perhaps  ten  yards  across  and  occupied  a  channel  in 
the  rocks.  The  surface  was  smooth  and  hard,  and 
Deering  imagined  if  one  slipped  one  would  not  stop 
until  one  reached  the  valley.  A  row  of  small  holes, 
however,  indicated  that  Stannard's  party  had  gone 
across  and  up  the  dark,  forbidding  buttress  on  the 
other  side.  Deering  frankly  shrank  from  the  labor 
and  risk  of  crossing,  but  he  dared  not  turn  back. 

"Where  the  boys  have  gone  we  mustn't  stop,"  he 
said.  "Tie  on  the  rope  and  give  me  the  grub-hoe." 

Peter  gave  him  the  hoe.  The  blade  was  curved, 
like  a  carpenter's  adze,  and  at  its  head  was  a  short 
pick.  The  tool,  although  rather  heavy,  was  a  good 
ice-ax.  In  soft  snow,  one  can  kick  holes,  but  the  snow 
was  hard  and  Deering  doubted  if  the  notches  Stan- 
nard had  cut  would  carry  him.  He  used  the  pick, 
balancing  in  a  hole  while  he  chipped  out  the  next,  and 
when  they  got  across  he  sent  Peter  in  front.  Their 
hands  were  numb  and  where  the  snow  had  melted  veins 
of  ice  filled  the  cracks  in  the  rocks.  The  hold  was 


266  NORTHWEST! 

bad  and  Peter  stopped  at  the  bottom  of  a  slab  Deering 
had  remarked  when  he  sent  him  in  front. 

"I  sure  don't  know  how  we're  going  to  get  up." 

"Stannard  got  up,"  said  Deering  and  looked  about. 

Thirty  feet  below  him  the  belt  of  snow  pierced  the 
rocks.  It  looked  nearly  perpendicular  and  the  snow- 
field  at  its  foot  was  horribly  steep.  In  the  shadow, 
the  surface  was  gray  and  dark  patches  marked  where 
rocks  pushed  through.  A  very  long  way  down,  across 
a  sharp  but  broken  line,  the  color  was  blue,  and  Deer- 
ing thought  the  line  the  top  of  a  precipice.  He  turned 
and  looked  up.  The  slab  was  upright  and  about  ten 
feet  high;  he  could  not  see  a  crack  or  knob,  but  he 
noted  two  or  three  fresh  scratches. 

"Lean  against  the  rock  and  spread  your  arms," 
he  said,  and  when  Peter  did  so  climbed  up  his  back. 

Standing  on  the  other's  shoulders,  he  could  reach 
the  top  of  the  slab.  The  top  was  nearly  flat  and  went 
back  for  some  distance,  but  the  snow  was  hard.  Deer- 
ing dared  not  trust  his  numbed  hands  and  he  tried 
the  pick.  The  blade  got  hold,  but  he  could  not  see 
farther  than  the  handle.  If  he  had  caught  a  small 
lump  of  ice  that  would  not  support  him,  the  rope  would 
pull  Jardine  off  the  rock.  All  the  same,  something 
must  be  risked. 

"Brace  up  good,"  he  said  and  trusted  the  pick. 

The  tool  held  and  he  got  his  chest  on  the  top,  but 
now  the  blade  was  near  his  body,  his  reach  was  short 
and  when  he  used  his  hand  his  stiff  fingers  slipped 
across  the  snow.  It  was  obvious  he  must  move  the 


HELD  UP  267 

pick,  but  the  tool  was  his  main  support  and  the  effort 
to  push  it  forward  might  send  him  down.  Still,  if 
he  could  get  three  or  four  inches  higher,  he  might, 
perhaps,  balance  on  the  edge. 

His  boots  got  no  grip  on  the  smooth  slab,  but  when 
he  used  his  knee  his  clothes  stuck  to  the  stone.  When 
his  waist  was  nearly  level  with  the  top  he  pulled 
out  the  pick  and  moved  it  forward.  For  a  moment 
or  two  the  blade  came  back  and  he  began  to  go  down ; 
then  it  held  and  after  a  stern  effort  he  was  up.  The 
rock  above  the '  ledge  was  broken,  and  throwing  the 
rope  across  a  knob,  he  helped  Peter. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  they  reached  the  ridge 
behind  the  buttress.  Deering's  hands  were  bleeding 
and  he  was  not  cold.  His  skin  was  wet  and  he  breathed 
by  labored  gasps.  In  front,  the  ridge  went  up,  un- 
evenly, to  the  neck.  The  narrow,  broken  top,  for  the 
most  part,  was  supported  by  precipitous  rocks.  One 
must  use  caution  and  could  not  go  fast,  but  after  a 
time  a  snow  cornice  began  on  one  side.  The  top,  lev- 
eled by  the  wind,  was  smooth,  and,  so  far  as  it  rested 
on  the  stone,  was  firm.  As  a  rule,  a  snow  cornice  is 
widest  above,  and  Deering  knew  if  he  crossed  the  line 
where  it  overhung  its  base  he  might  break  through, 
but  the  marks  in  front  indicated  where  Stannard  had 
gone. 

Stannard  knew  much  about  snow  cornices  and  Deer- 
ing  wondered  whether  he  could  not  have  found  some 
grounds  for  throwing  off  the  rope  and  letting  Jimmy 
venture  on  the  dangerous  overhang.  He  had  obviously 


268  NORTHWEST! 

not  done  so ;  moreover  he  had  brought  his  companions 
up  the  buttress.  If  Deering  himself  had  meant  to  let 
somebody  fall,  he  thought  he  would  have  tried  at  the 
awkward  slab.  In  fact,  he  admitted  that  to  picture 
Stannard's  weighing  a  plan  like  that  was  theatrically 
extravagant.  Yet  he  knew  Stannard,  who  was  not 
the  man  people  thought.  He  was  very  clever  and  if 
he  plotted  to  get  rid  of  Jimmy,  he  would  not  do  so  soon 
after  he  had  taken  him  into  the  mountains.  He  would 
wait  until  he  had  nearly  carried  out  his  job  and  was 
bringing  his  party  down  from  the  rocks.  Anyhow, 
Deering's  business  was  to  overtake  the  party.  To 
wonder  whether  he  exaggerated  Jimmy's  danger  would 
not  help. 

For  a  time  he  made  good  progress  along  the  cornice, 
and  in  the  afternoon  he  reached  the  neck.  At  the  end 
of  the  ridge  Stannard's  tracks  forked.  One  row  of 
footmarks  crossed  a  steep  snow-bank  running  up  a 
peak;  the  other  went  along  the  hollow  neck. 

"All  the  outfit  went  up  the  neck  and  then  two  or 
three  turned  back,"  Peter  remarked  after  examining 
the  trampled  snow. 

Deering  nodded.  "Stannard  sent  them  back  and 
pushed  ahead  with  Gillane  to  look  for  a  line  down  the 
other  side.  When  we  get  across  we'll  see  what  he 
was  up  against." 

At  the  end  of  the  neck  they  stopped  and  Deering 
frowned.  He  had  been  longer  than  he  thought  and 
a  pale  illumination  behind  a  peak  indicated  that  the 
sun  was  low.  In  the  valley  below,  he  saw  a  frozen 


HELD  UP  269 

lake  and  a  dark,  winding  band  he  knew  was  timber 
on  a  river  bank.  He  had  food,  and  if  he  could  reach 
the  trees  he  need  not  bother  about  the  frost.  A  Cana- 
dian grub-hoe,  made  for  cutting  roots,  is  a  useful  tool, 
and  he  could  build  a  wall  of  bark  and  branches,  light  a 
fire  and  brew  hot  tea.  The  trouble  was,  to  get  down 
to  the  friendly  pines. 

In  front  of  him,  a  snow-field  sloped  to  a  spot  at 
which  two  uneven,  converging  rows  of  dark  rocks 
ought  to  have  met.  The  rocks  were  the  tops  of  preci- 
pices, but  the  point  of  their  intersection  was  cut  out, 
and  a  glacier  began  at  the  gap.  Deering  could  see 
for  a  short  distance  down  the  glacier,  until  it  plunged 
across  the  top  of  a  steeper  pitch,  and  when  he  used 
his  glasses  he  noted  its  surface  was  crumpled,  as  if 
it  broke  in  angry  waves.  In  fact,  it  was  rather  like 
a  rapid  suddenly  frozen  at  the  top  of  a  fall.  Deering 
knew  it  was  an  ice-fall  and  the  waves  were  giant  blocks. 
The  rocks  at  the  side  were  very  steep  and  veined  by 
snow. 

"Nothing's  doing  there!"  he  remarked.  "I  don't 
see  Stannard,  but  he  won't  find  a  useful  line.  Let's 
look  for  the  boys." 

They  turned  and,  following  the  tracks  along  the 
neck,  after  some  time  went  round  a  buttress  that  broke 
the  front  of  the  range.  On  the  other  side  three  people 
occupied  a  little  hollow  in  the  rock.  One  got  up  awk- 
wardly. 

"It's  Peter!"  he  shouted.  "Why,  Deering,  you 
grand  old  sport!" 


270  NORTHWEST! 

Deering  gave  Jimmy  his  hand  and  noted  that  his 
look  was  strained  and  his  face  was  pinched. 

"Miss  Laura  put  me  on  your  track  and  Mr.  Jardine 
wanted  to  come  along,"  he  said  and  studied  the  others, 
who  did  not  get  up. 

"They've  had  enough,"  said  Jimmy.  "We  were  two 
nights  on  the  rocks  and  the  cold  was  keen.  Stannard's 
gone  to  see  if  we  can  get  down  the  glacier,  but  I 
don't  think  he's  hopeful.  Anyhow,  let's  go  back  into 
our  hole.  When  you  wriggle  down  under  a  blanket, 
it's  a  little  warmer  than  outside." 

Deering  joined  the  others.  A  jambed  stone  partly 
covered  the  hole,  and  the  boys'  packs,  fur  coats  and 
blankets  kept  them  from  freezing,  but  he  saw  their 
pluck  was  nearly  gone. 

"What  about  the  police?"  he  asked,  when  he  had 
lighted  his  pipe. 

"We  don't  know  where  they  are,"  Jimmy  replied. 
"Stannard  brought  us  up  the  ridge,  but  from  my 
shack  you  see  another  way  up  at  the  head  of  the 
valley.  I  went  over  to  study  the  ground  and  thought 
the  climb  harder  than  it  looks.  All  the  same,  I  im- 
agine the  police  have  tried  it.  Of  course,  when 
they  got  to  the  snow  they  wouldn't  find  our  tracks, 
but  they  know  we're  in  the  mountains — " 

"Then,  they're  south  of  us?" 

Jimmy  nodded.  "On  this  side  of  the  range ;  they'd 
reckon  on  our  pushing  south  and  expect  to  cut  us  off. 
Now  you  see  why  Stannard's  keen  about  getting  down 
the  glacier !" 


HELD  UP  271 

"We  can't  get  down;  the  ice-fall  won't  go,"  said 
Stevens  moodily.  "I  doubt  if  I  could  get  down  a 
ladder.  My  notion  is,  Stannard  knows  his  plan's  a 
forlorn  hope  and  Gillane  is  badly  rattled." 

"The  fellow's  a  common  packer;  Stannard  ought 
not  to  have  hired  him,"  Dillon  agreed.  "Still  we 
couldn't  wait  and  when  the  Revelstoke  man  sent  Gil- 
lane  we  were  forced  to  start.  Anyhow,  I'd  trust  Stan- 
nard where  I  wouldn't  trust  a  guide." 

"He  hasn't  hit  a  useful  line  yet,"  Stevens  rejoined. 
"We're  held  up,  and  I  doubt  if  we  can  stand  for  an- 
other night  in  the  frost." 

"I'm  willing  to  go  back  and  risk  the  police,"  said 
Jimmy.  "Still,  we  couldn't  start  until  daybreak  and 
would  be  forced  to  camp  again  on  the  ridge.  The 
valley's  not  far  off;  if  we  can  make  it." 

"We  must  wait  for  Stannard's  report,"  said  Deer- 
ing  soothingly.  "When  I  was  at  the  hotel  the  clerk 
gave  me  a  letter  for  you." 

Jimmy  beat  his  numbed  hands  and  opened  the  en- 
velope. Then  he  laughed,  a  dreary  laugh. 

"In  a  way,  the  thing's  a  joke!  Leyland's  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  a  Japanese  cotton  mill  and  Sir  Jim 
writes  from  Tokio.  He's  going  to  England  by  Van- 
couver and  sails  on  board  the  first  C.P.R.  boat.  He 
means  to  stop  for  a  few  days  and  look  me  up— 
Jimmy  studied  the  postmark  and  resumed :  "I  expect 
he's  at  Vancouver  now." 

"Your  luck  is  certainly  bad,"  Deering  remarked  in 
a  sympathetic  voice. 


272  NORTHWEST! 

"Jim's  the  head  of  the  house;  Dick  owns  him  boss," 
Jimmy  went  on.  "His  letter's  kind,  and  if  he'd  arrived 
before,  when  I  was  making  good,  I  might  have  got 
his  support.  I  wanted  to  persuade  him  I  was  not 
a  careless  fool;  but  when  he  gets  to  know  my  recent 
exploits — " 

Deering  imagined  Jimmy  had  wanted  his  uncle  to 
agree  about  his  marrying  Margaret.  Since  Sir  James 
was  a  sober  business  man,  the  lad  had  not  much 
grounds  to  hope  he  would  approve  his  nephew's  ro- 
mantic adventures. 

"After  all,  I  rather  think  we'll  cheat  the  police," 
he  said.  "They  don't  know  where  we  are  and  when 
we  make  the  valley  we'll  hit  up  the  pace.  I've  friends 
who'll  help  you  across  the  frontier  and  you  can  sail 
for  England  from  New  York." 

"The  drawback  is,  we  can't  make  the  valley.  Stan- 
nard  can't  lead  us  down,"  Stevens  interrupted  gloom- 
ily. 

Deering  looked  up.  "We'll  know  soon.  I  hear 
steps." 

Stannard  came  round  the  corner,  saw  Deering,  and 
stopped,  rather  quickly. 

"Hello!  We  did  not  expect  you.  Were  you  at  the 
hotel?  Have  you  got  some  news?" 

"I  was  at  the  hotel,"  Deering  replied.  "The  morn- 
ing before  I  got  there  a  police  sergeant  arrived.  I 
understand  he  was  curious  about  your  excursion." 

Stannard's  glance  was  keen  and  Deering  thought 
him  disturbed. 


HELD  UP  273 

"You  imply  the  fellow  knew  I'd  gone  to  join 
Jimmy?" 

"Miss  Laura  imagined  something  like  that.  But 
what  about  the  glacier?" 

Stannard  hesitated  and  knitted  his  brows.  "I  think 
we'll  risk  it  in  the  morning.  You  see,  if  we  pushed 
along  the  range,  we  might  meet  the  police.  Besides, 
we  must  get  down  to  the  timber  soon." 

"You  sure  can't  get  down,"  remarked  Gillane,  the 
packer,  who  had  followed  Stannard. 

"We'll  try,"  said  Stannard,  and  turning  to  the  others, 
forced  a  smile.  "Well,  I  want  some  food  and  Frank 
might  light  the  spirit  lamp.  You  must  brace  up  for 
another  night  on  the  mountain,  but  we're  lucky  because 
we  have  got  a  corner  where  we  shan't  freeze." 


XXX 

THE    GULLY 

broke  drearily.  The  sky  was  dark  and  snow 
clouds  rolled  about  the  peaks.  In  the  hollow 
behind  the  rock  Stannard's  party  crowded  round  the 
spirit  lamp.  One  could  get  no  warmth,  but  in  the 
snowy  wilds  the  small  blue  flame  and  steaming  kettle 
called.  Moreover,  each  would  soon  receive  a  meas- 
ured draught  of  strong  hot  tea. 

All  were  numb  and  their  faces  were  pinched. 
Stevens  was  frankly  despondent,  and  when  Dillon 
broke  his  hard  bannock  his  stiff  hands  shook.  Gillane 
was  apathetic,  but  when  Stannard  measured  out  the 
tea  he  joked  and  Deering  laughed.  To  laugh  cost 
the  big  man  something,  but  he  knew  he  must.  Stern 
effort  was  needed  and  human  effort  does  not  altogether 
depend  on  muscular  strength.  The  packer's  mood  was 
daunting  and  it  was  obvious  they  would  not  get  much 
help  from  him. 

Jimmy  was  quiet.  He  must  concentrate  on  holding 
out  and  could  not  force  a  laugh.  He  admitted  he 
had  not  pluck  like  Stannard's.  Stannard  was  indom- 
itable, and  now  his  gay  carelessness  was  very  fine. 
Although  he  was  the  oldest  of  the  party  and  his 

face  was  haggard,  he  joked  and  his  jokes  were  good. 

274 


THE  GULLY  275 

When  the  meal  was  over  he  got  up  and  beat  his  hands. 
"We  must  get   down   before  dark  and   I  think   I 
know  a  line,"  he  said.     "If  our  luck  is  good,  we'll 
camp  in  the  trees  by  a  splendid  fire." 

To  start  was  hard,  but  they  got  off  and  the  snow 
was  firm.  The  steep  slope  below  the  neck  was  smooth 
and  for  a  time  they  made  progress.  Jimmy  remarked 
the  thickening  snow  cloud  and  knew  Stannard  thought 
it  ominous,  for  he  pushed  on  as  fast  as  possible.  So 
far,  one  could  use  some  speed;  the  obstacles  were 
in  front. 

The  snow-field  stopped  at  the  top  of  a  chain  of 
precipices.  The  rocks  were  broken  by  the  deep  gap 
through  which  the  glacier  went,  but  Jimmy  noted 
smaller  breaks  he  thought  were  gullies  filled  by  snow. 
He  could  not  see  the  front  of  the  precipices,  but  he 
pictured  their  falling  for  six  or  seven  hundred  feet. 
At  the  bottom,  no  doubt,  were  steep  spurs  and  long 
ridges,  across  which  one  might  reach  the  trees  rolling 
up  from  the  valley.  The  precipice  was  the  main  ob- 
stacle, but  Jimmy  did  not  think  the  rocks  were  per- 
pendicular. Anyhow,  the  glacier  was  not,  and  if 
one  could  cross  the  ice-falls,  it  would  carry  them  down. 
The  trouble  was,  the  cloud  was  getting  thick. 

After  a  time,  they  stopped  at  the  head  of  the  glacier, 
and  Stannard,  Jimmy  and  Deering  climbed  to  a  shelf 
that  commanded  the  ice- fall.  Mist  rolled  about,  but 
for  some  distance  one  saw  the  broad  white  belt  curve 
down  between  the  rocks.  Then  Jimmy  saw  the  fall 
and  set  his  mouth.  The  snowy  ice  was  piled  in  tre- 


276  NORTHWEST! 

mendous  blocks  and  split  by  yawning  cracks.  It  looked 
as  if  the  cracks  went  to  the  bottom,  and  one  imagined 
others,  hidden  by  fresh  snow.  Stannard  turned  to 
Deering,  who  shook  his  head. 

"The  boys  can't  make  it;  I  doubt  if  you  can.  Noth- 
ing's doing!" 

"Very  well,"  said  Stannard.  "I  marked  a  gully 
about  two  miles  south.  I  don't  know  if  you'll  like 
it,  but  we  must  get  down." 

Deering  pulled  out  his  watch.  "You  have  got  to 
hustle.  The  boys  can't  stand  for  another  night  on 
the  mountain." 

When  they  rejoined  the  others,  it  looked  as  if  his 
remark  was  justified.  Gillane  declared  if  they  could 
not  cross  the  ice-fall  they  must  stop  and  freeze; 
Stevens  owned  he  was  exhausted  and  doubted  if  he 
could  reach  the  gully.  Jimmy  would  sooner  have 
risked  the  fall,  since  he  was  persuaded  the  other  line 
would  not  carry  them  down,  but  if  Stannard  thought 
the  line  might  go,  he  was  willing  to  try  it. 

They  fronted  the  laborious  climb  to  the  snow-field, 
and  soon  after  they  got  there  mist  blew  across  the 
slope.  The  party  was  now  drawn  out  in  a  straggling 
row  and  by  and  by  Deering  stopped  and  looked  about. 
He  knew  two  or  three  were  behind  him,  but  he  saw 
nobody. 

"Where  are  the  boys?"  he  shouted. 

Peter  said  he  had  not  seen  Stevens  and  Dillon  for 
some  time,  but  they  were  no  doubt  pushing  along  and 
the  party's  track  was  plain. 


THE  GULLY  277 

"I'm  going  back,"  said  Deering.  "Watch  out  for 
Jimmy." 

^  He  plunged  into  the  mist  and  presently  found 
Stevens  sitting  in  the  snow.  Dillon  was  with  the  lad 
and  when  Deering  arrived  urged  him  to  get  up. 
Stevens  dully  refused  and  said  there  was  no  use  in 
the  others  bothering;  he  could  go  no  farther.  Deering 
pulled  him  up  and  shoved  him  along. 

"You're  going  to  the  gully,  anyhow,"  he  shouted 
with  a  jolly  laugh.  "When  we  get  you  there,  you  can 
sit  down  and  slide." 

Dillon  helped  and  some  time  afterwards  they  came 
up  with  Peter. 

"Where's  Jimmy?"  Deering  asked  in  a  sharp  voice. 

"Stannard    reckoned   he   was   near   the   spot   he'd 

marked.  He  took  a  rope,  and  Gillane  and  Jimmy  went 

along.     They  allowed  I  must  stop  to  watch  out  for 

you." 

"You  let  Jimmy  go!" 

"Sure  I  did,"  said  Peter,  with  sullen  quietness.  "I 
reckon  you  needn't  bother  about  Jimmy.  Something's 
bitten  you.  Stannard's  all  right.  If  he  can't  help  us, 
we  have  got  to  freeze." 

Deering  said  nothing.  Stannard's  charm  was  strong, 
and  cold  and  fatigue  had  dulled  Peter's  brain.  There 
was  no  use  in  arguing  and  he  followed  the  others' 
track.  He  could  not  see  much,  for  the  mist  was 
thick.  The  ground  got  steeper  and  rocks  pierced  the 
snow.  It  looked  as  if  he  were  near  the  top  of  the 
precipice,  but  so  long  as  the  marks  in  front  were  plain 


278  NORTHWEST! 

he  need  not  hesitate.  After  a  few  minutes  he  saw 
Gillane.  The  packer  leaned  against  a  massy  block, 
round  which  he  had  thrown  the  rope;  the  end  was 
over  the  top  ot  the  rocks. 

"Hello!"  said  Deering.     "What's  your  job?" 

"I'm  standing  by  to  steady  Mr.  Stannard.  Top  of 
the  gully's  blocked,  and  he  calculated  to  get  in  by  a 
traverse  across  the  front.  There's  a  kind  of  ledge, 
but  we  didn't  see  a  good  anchor  hold." 

Deering  remarked  that  the  fellow's  grasp  was  slack 
and  a  single  turn  of  the  rope  was  round  the  stone. 
If  a  heavy  strain  came  on  the  end,  he  thought  the 
rope  would  run  and  Gillane  would  not  have  time  to 
throw  on  another  loop.  Cold  and  fatigue  had  made 
him  careless. 

"Get  a  good  hold  and  stiffen  up,"  said  Deering. 
"I'm  going  after  Stannard." 

The  rocks  were  not  as  steep  as  he  had  thought 
and  the  ledge  was  wide  enough  to  carry  him,  but  a 
yard  or  two  in  front  it  turned  a  corner.  Although 
the  mist  was  puzzling,  Deering  thought  it  melted.  In 
the  meantime,  he  must  reach  the  corner.  Sometimes 
Jimmy  was  rash,  and  if  Stannard  allowed  him  to 
run  a  risk  he  ought  not  to  run,  nobody  would  know. 

When  Deering  got  to  the  corner,  the  mist  rolled  off 
the  mountain  top.  He  saw  a  tremendous  slope  of 
rock,  pierced  by  a  narrow  white  hollow.  For  four 
or  five  hundred  feet  the  gully  went  down  and  gradu- 
ally melted  in  a  fresh  wave  of  mist.  Deering  noted 
the  sharpness  of  the  pitch  and  then  fixed  his  glance 


THE  GULLY  279 

on  Stannard,  who  leaned  back  against  the  rock. 
Jimmy,  holding  on  by  Stannard's  shoulder,  was  trying 
to  get  past  on  the  outside  of  the  ledge. 

Deering  stopped  and  his  heart  beat.  The  others 
did  not  see  him  and  he  dared  not  shout,  but  if  Stan- 
nard moved,  it  was  obvious  Jimmy  would  fall.  Stan- 
nard did  not  move,  and  Jimmy,  crossing  in  front  of 
him,  stopped  and  looked  down. 

"The  stretch  is  awkward  and  you  can't  steady  me," 
he  said.  "Still  I  think  I  could  reach  the  slab  and 
slide  into  the  gully.  Before  we  bring  the  others,  per- 
haps I  ought  to  try." 

"You  have  a  longer  reach  than  mine  and  you  are 
younger,"  Stannard  replied. 

Deering  could  not  see  the  slab,  but  he  imagined 
Stannard  had  noted  something  about  it  that  Jimmy 
had  not.  Now  Jimmy  fronted  the  other  way,  Stan- 
nard's hand  was  at  his  waist  and  Deering  thought 
he  loosed  the  knot  on  the  rope. 

"Hold  on,  Jimmy,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  voice. 

Jimmy  stopped.  Stannard  turned,  and  although  his 
look  was  cool  Deering  thought  his  coolness  forced. 
He  leaned  against  the  rock,  but  Deering  saw  his  hands 
were  occupied  behind  his  back. 

"I  thought  you  went  for  Stevens,"  he  remarked. 

"The  kid  wasn't  far  back,"  Deering  replied  and 
laughed.  "Gillane's  rattled  and  half  frozen.  I  reckon 
he  might  let  you  go,  but  my  two  hundred  pounds  is 
a  pretty  good  anchor.  Slip  off  the  rope  and  I'll  help 
Jimmy;  he  won't  pull  me  off." 


280  NORTHWEST! 

Stannard  awkwardly  pulled  out  the  knot,  and  Deer- 
ing,  who  had  thought  to  see  the  rope  fall,  was  baffled. 
For  all  that,  he  knew  Stannard's  cleverness  and  im- 
agined the  fellow  knew  he  had  experimented. 

"I'm  going  in  front  of  you,"  he  resumed.  "Wait 
until  I  tie  on,  Jimmy.  You  can't  trust  the  slab." 

When  he  had  tied  on  he  braced  himself  against  the 
rock.  Jimmy  vanished  across  the  edge  and  the  rope 
got  tight.  After  a  few  minutes  he  came  up. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,  we  can  get  down  by  cutting 
steps,  but  I  couldn't  see  very  far,"  he  said.  "Your 
tip  about  the  slab  was  useful,  Deering.  The  top  was 
rotten  and  a  lump  came  off.  I  was  lucky  because  I 
put  on  the  rope." 

"On  the  rocks  caution  pays,"  Deering  remarked. 
"Well,  let's  get  up  and  go  for  the  others.  Cutting 
steps  for  four  or  five  hundred  feet  is  a  pretty  long 
job." 

They  went  back  along  the  ledge,  but  Deering  felt 
slack  and  his  big  hands  shook.  He  had  borne  some 
strain  and  rather  thought  that  had  he  arrived  a  few 
moments  later  Jimmy,  and  perhaps  Gillane,  would 
have  gone  down  the  rocks.  Yet  he  did  not  know.  In 
fact,  he  admitted  that  he  might  not  altogether  know. 


XXXI 

STANNARD'S  LINE 

A  WAVE  of  mist  rolled  across  the  rocks,  but  the 
•*  *•  vapor  was  faintly  luminous,  as  if  a  light  shone 
through.  Deering,  Stannard,  Jardine  and  Jimmy 
waited  on  the  steep  bank  above  the  ledge ;  Gillane  had 
gone  back  for  the  others.  When  he  arrived  the  party 
would  start. 

Deering  knew  the  venture  was  rash  and  the  labor 
heavy.  They  would  use  two  ropes  and  the  leader 
must  kick  and  cut  steps  in  the  snow;  the  others  be- 
hind would  then  occupy  the  holes  and  hold  him  up 
until  he  cut  another  lot.  Cutting  steps,  however,  soon 
tired  one's  arms,  and  when  the  leader  was  exhausted 
to  pull  him  up  and  tie  on  a  fresh  man  might  be  dan- 
gerous. Then  nobody  knew  what  was  at  the  bottom 
and  the  gully  might  break  off  on  the  front  of  an  icy 
cliff. 

All  the  same,  some  rashness  was  justified.  Noth- 
ing indicated  that  the  mist  would  altogether  roll  away, 
and  in  two  or  three  hours  it  would  be  dark.  If  they 
stopped  for  another  night  on  the  high  rocks,  all  would 
freeze;  an  effort  to  reach  the  timber  and  camp  by  a 
fire  was,  so  to  speak,  their  forlorn  hope.  Besides, 
Stannard  was  persuaded  they  could  get  down,  and 

281 


282  NORTHWEST! 

Deering  admitted  his  judgment  was  good.  By  and 
by  Stannard  gave  him  a  careless  glance. 

"I'll  lead  on  the  first  rope  and  take  Gillane  and 
Stevens.  Jimmy  and  the  others  will  go  with  you." 

Deering  wondered.  He  was  resolved  Jimmy  should 
use  his  rope,  but  Stannard's  proposing  it  was  sig- 
nificant. If  Stannard  knew  why  he  had  joined  them 
on  the  ledge,  it  looked  as  if  he  were  resigned  to  let 
Jimmy  go.  Then  Stannard  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"We  must  get  off.  Shout  for  Gillane.  Your  voice 
carries  well." 

Deering  shouted  and  fixed  his  glance  on  the  slope 
behind  the  group.  After  a  few  minutes,  two  or  three 
indistinct  objects  loomed  in  the  mist. 

"The  boys  are  coming,"  he  said,  and  resumed  in  a 
puzzled  voice :  "Gillane  went  for  Stevens  and  Dillon ; 
but  I  see  four." 

"There  are  four,"  said  Jimmy,  and  Deering's  mouth 
got  tight. 

He  thought  the  first  man  did  not  belong  to  Stan- 
nard's party,  and  now  he  saw  two  others  behind  the 
advancing  group. 

"The  police!"  said  Stannard,  and  shrugged  re- 
signedly. 

Jimmy  turned.  His  face  was  pinched  and  his  pose 
was  slack,  but  his  look  was  calm. 

"You  have  played  up  nobly,  but  we're  beaten  and 
I've  had  enough.  In  fact,  to  know  I'm  beaten  is  rather 
a  relief." 

Deering  nodded  gloomily.     There  was  no  use  in 


STANNARD'S  LINE  283 

trying  to  get  away;  the  Royal  North- West  are  em- 
powered to  shoot,  and,  as  a  rule,  shoot  straight.  He 
waited  and  noted  mechanically  that  Stannard  was  a 
few  yards  nearer  the  top  of  the  rocks.  By  and  by  a 
police  sergeant  stopped  opposite  the  group. 

"We  have  got  you !  Don't  move  until  you  get  my 
orders,"  he  said,  and  signing  a  trooper,  indicated 
Gillane's  party.  "Hold  that  lot  off!" 

"We  are  not  looking  for  trouble  and  the  boys  won't 
bother  you,"  said  Deering.  "What's  your  business?" 

He  turned  and  glanced  at  Stannard,  who  said  noth- 
ing. The  mist  was  getting  thin  and  Deering  thought 
his  look  strained.  Gillane  had  stopped  behind  the 
police,  and  the  sergeant  advanced,  pulling  at  his  belt. 

"I  have  a  warrant,  but  my  hands  are  frozen  and  I 
can't  get  inside  my  coat." 

"You  can  show  us  the  warrant  later,"  said  Jimmy. 
"I'm  James  Leyland,  the  man  you  want." 

"We  don't  want  you,"  the  sergeant  replied. 

Jimmy's  legs  shook  and  he  sat  down  in  the  snow. 
After  the  long  strain,  his  relief  was  poignant  and 
reacted  on  his  exhausted  body.  He  gave  the  sergeant 
a  dull,  puzzled  look. 

"Then  whom  do  you  want?" 

"Harvey  Stannard,"  said  the  other,  and  Stannard 
turned. 

His  figure  cut  the  misty  background  and  he  carried 
himself  as  if  he  were  not  disturbed.  In  fact,  Jimmy 
imagined  he  had  expected  something  like  this. 

"I  am  Stannard.     Why  do  you  want  me?" 


284  NORTHWEST! 

"When  I  can  loose  my  belt  I'll  read  you  the  war- 
rant. The  charge  is  killing  game-warden  Douglas." 

"Then  Douglas  is  dead?"  said  Stannard  in  a  quiet 
voice. 

"He  died  four  or  five  days  since,"  the  sergeant 
replied. 

"Ah!"  said  Stannard,  and  braced  himself.  "Well, 
I  have  nothing  to  state.  I  reserve  my  defense — 

"Stop  him !"  shouted  the  sergeant,  and  leaped  across 
the  snow. 

Stannard  stepped  back,  stumbled  on  the  steep  bank 
and  vanished. 

For  a  moment  Jimmy,  numbed  by  horror,  won- 
dered whether  his  imagination  had  cheated  him. 
Then  he  saw  Stannard  was  really  gone  and  he  ran 
for  the  ledge.  The  others  joined  him,  but  Stannard 
was  not  on  the  ledge.  Two  or  three  hundred  feet 
below  a  dark  object  rolled  down  a  long  slab  and  at 
the  bottom  plunged  into  a  gulf  where  the  gray  mist 
tossed. 

"He's  gone,"  Deering  remarked  to  the  sergeant. 
"Perhaps  you'll  find  him  when  the  snow  melts." 

They  went  back  to  the  spot  where  they  had  left 
their  packs  and  ropes.  For  a  time  all  were  quiet,  and 
then  the  sergeant  said  to  Deering :  "He  beat  me,  but  I 
don't  get  it  yet.  I  didn't  reckon  on  his  going  over; 
he  stated  he  reserved  his  defense." 

"Perhaps  he  was  rash,"  Deering  remarked  in  a 
thoughtful  voice.  "In  the  meantime,  however,  we 


STANNARD'S  LINE  285 

must  let  it  go  and  think  about  getting  down  to  the 
bush.     How  did  you  find  us?" 

"We  went  for  a  neck  behind  Mr.  Leyland's  shack. 
When  we  saw  no  tracks  we  pushed  along  the  main 
range.  We  reckoned  you'd  gone  by  the  long  ridge 
and  we  might  cut  your  trail.  We  were  three  nights 
in  the  rocks  and  are  all  played  out." 

"Then  you  had  better  join  us.     We  are  going  to 
try  Stannard's  line  down  the  gully.     I  don't  engage 
to  make  the  woods,  but  I  don't  see  another  plan." 
The  sergeant  hesitated.     "Stannard  hit  the  line?" 
"He   declared   the   line   would   go,"   said   Deering 
quietly.     "Perhaps  you  have  not  much  grounds  to 
trust  him,  but  he  was  a  great  mountaineer." 

Jimmy  turned  and  threw  Deering  the  end  of  the 
rope. 

"Don't  talk!"  he  said  to  the  sergeant.  "If  you 
mean  to  join  us,  tie  on.  We  must  start." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  they  crossed  the  shelf. 
Deering  led,  and  Jimmy,  going  first  on  the  second 
rope,  rather  doubted  if  they  would  reach  the  trees. 
In  summer  the  long  straight  crack  was  obviously  the 
mountain's  rubbish  shoot  and  its  sides  were  ground 
smooth  by  rolling  stones;  now  it  was  packed  by  hard, 
firm  snow.  To  slip  would  mean  a  savage  glissade, 

and  then  perhaps  a  plunge 

Much  depended  on  the  leader's  nerve.  Reaching 
down,  held  by  the  rope,  he  must  chip  out  holes;  and 
then,  when  the  man  behind  him  occupied  the  notches, 


286  NORTHWEST! 

move  a  foot  or  two  and  cut  another.  Sometimes 
Deering  used  his  boots  and  sometimes  the  ice-pick; 
but,  for  the  most  part,  when  his  party  had  gone  across, 
the  holes  were  broken  and  Jimmy  was  forced  to  cut. 
The  labor  was  exhausting  and  by  and  by  Deering 
owned  he  had  had  enough.  The  trouble  was  to  help 
him  back  and  put  another  in  his  place,  but  Gillane  got 
into  the  loop  and  brought  them  down  some  distance. 
Then  he  stopped  and  for  a  few  minutes  all  lay  in  the 
snow.  Mist  hid  the  bottom  of  the  gully  and  none 
dared  hope  their  labor  would  be  lightened  much  when 
they  got  there.  For  all  they  knew  they  were  pain- 
fully crawling  down  to  the  top  of  a  precipice.  In 
fact  nobody  was  willing  to  brace  up  for  the  effort 
to  change  the  leaders. 

After  a  time  Jimmy  turned  his  head.  The  mist 
was  lifting.  It  went  up  in  torn  shreds  and  the  bot- 
tom of  the  gully  began  to  get  distinct.  Where  the 
dark  trough  ran  out  from  the  rocks  a  smooth  snow- 
field  went  down.  The  vapor  steadily  rolled  off  the 
slope,  until  Jimmy  saw  a  vague,  dark  belt  he  thought 
was  timber.  His  heart  beat  and  he  got  back  his 
pluck. 

"Stannard  hit  the  proper  line,"  he  said.  "We'll 
pitch  camp  in  the  woods." 

Dillon  took  Gillane's  post,  the  sergeant  took 
Jimmy's,  and  they  pushed  on.  By  and  by  the  mist 
rolled  down  and  hid  the  pitches  below,  but,  now  all 
knew  where  they  went,  the  gloom  vanished  and  slack 
muscles  were  braced.  For  all  that,  when  they  reached 


STANNARD'S  LINE  287 

the  snowfield  Deering  looked  to  the  west  and  frowned. 

"The  light's  going  and  the  trees  are  a  long  way 
off,"  he  said.  "Mush  along,  boys.  You  have  got  to 
get  there!" 

In  places  the  snow  was  loose  and  to  get  forward 
was  hard.  Jimmy  pushed  Stevens  for  some  distance 
and  they  were  forced  to  stop  for  a  young  police 
trooper.  On  some  pitches  the  snow  was  hard  and 
slippery,  and  rocks  with  icy  tops  broke  the  surface. 
Dark  crept  up  from  the  valley  and  the  trees  were 
behind  the  ground  in  front.  Yet  from  the  daunting 
gully  they  had  looked  down  across  the  vast  white 
slope  and  the  picture  that  melted  like  the  mist  led 
them  on.  Ahead  were  rest  and  food  and  warmth. 
At  length,  two  or  three  hours  after  dark,  Dillon  stum- 
bled and  rolled  in  the  snow. 

"Watch  out  for  the  juniper  I  ran  up  against,"  he 
shouted.  "Keep  going!  This  trail's  for  the  woods!" 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  Jimmy  threw  off  his  pack 
and  leaned  against  a  spruce.  The  ground  was  steep 
and  stony,  but  rows  of  small  trunks  cut  the  glim- 
mering snow.  All  round  was  fuel  and  one  could  build 
a  shelter  and  eat  hot  food.  He  thrilled  and  the  blood 
came  to  his  frozen  skin.  They  had  run  daunting  risks 
and  borne  all  flesh  and  blood  could  bear,  but  the  strain 
was  done  with.  They  had  made  it! 


XXXII 

BY   THE    CAMP-FIRE 

TN  the  timber  the  cold  was  not  very  keen  and  the 
•*•  tired  men  braced  themselves  for  the  effort  to  pitch 
camp.  Peter  and  the  sergeant  took  control  and  soon 
a  big  fire  burned  behind  a  wall  of  branches.  Against 
the  wall  twigs  and  thin  branches  were  packed  for 
beds.  Where  the  bushman  can  find  fuel  and  material 
for  building  he  does  not  bother  about  the  frost,  and 
in  winter  the  Royal  North-West  patrols  sleep  by  their 
camp-fires  far  out  on  the  snowy  wilds. 

A  trooper  fried  pork  and  doughy  bannocks,  Deering 
brewed  a  kettle  of  strong  tea,  and  when  all  had  eaten 
like  famished  animals  the  men,  for  the  most  part, 
went  to  sleep.  For  a  time,  however,  Deering,  the 
sergeant,  and  Jimmy  sat  by  the  fire  and  smoked. 

On  the  mountains,  they  were  absorbed  by  the  stern 
physical  effort,  and  concentrated  mechanically  on  get- 
ting down.  Animal  instinct  urged  them  forward,  but 
now  the  risk  of  freezing  was  gone,  they  began  to 
think  like  men.  The  sergeant  and  Jimmy  were  puz- 
zled and  imagined  they  might  get  some  light  from 
Deering.  Jimmy's  brows  were  knit  and  when  he 
looked  about  he  frowned.  Although  he  was  warm 
and  the  hot  tea  had  revived  him,  he  felt  his  brain 

was  dull. 

288 


BY  THE  CAMP-FIRE  289 

Sparks  leaped  up  from  the  fire ;  smoke  tossed  about 
the  camp.  One  heard  the  wind  in  the  pinetops  and 
the  trunks  reflected  gleams  of  flickering  light.  The 
mist  had  blown  away,  and  Jimmy  saw  far  off  a  dim 
white  ridge  cut  the  sky.  Then  he  turned  his  head 
and  shivered,  for  he  knew  Stannard's  broken  body 
was  somewhere  in  the  rocks  and  perhaps  nobody  would 
find  the  spot.  Stannard  was  his  friend,  a  cultivated 
gentleman  and  a  famous  mountaineer;  but  he  had 
slipped  and  gone  down  the  precipice  like  a  raw  tourist. 
Moreover,  although  it  looked  as  if  he  had  killed  the 
game  warden,  he  had  said  nothing.  In  fact,  it  looked 
as  if  he  were  willing  for  Jimmy  to  pay.  Yet  Jimmy 
was  not  persuaded ;  for  Stannard  to  use  treachery  like 
that  was  unthinkable. 

"You're  satisfied  I'm  not  accountable  for  the  shoot- 
ing accident?"  he  said  to  the  sergeant. 

"I  guess  my  chiefs  are  satisfied.  Our  orders  were 
to  leave  you  alone." 

For  a  few  moments  Jimmy  was  quiet.  He  had 
carried  a  heavy  load  and  now  the  load  was  gone.  He 
could  urge  Margaret  to  marry  him  and  get  on  with 
his  ranching.  Perhaps,  if  she  agreed,  he  might  go 
back  to  Lancashire,  but  he  must  not  yet  dwell  on 

this. 

"When  did  your  officers  find  out  I  had  nothing  to 

do  with  it?"  he  resumed. 

"Not  long  since;  the  day  before  warden  Douglas 
died.  All  the  time  he  was  at  the  hospital  we  waited 
for  his  statement,  but  got  nothing.  Although  I've 


290  NORTHWEST! 

seen  men  shot,  Douglas  puzzled  me  and  I  reckon  he 
puzzled  the  doctors.  Sometimes  he  was  sensible,  but 
he  didn't  talk,  and  when  we  asked  him  about  the 
shooting  he  looked  at  us  as  if  he'd  plumb  forgot. 
Then,  one  day,  it  all  came  back  and  he  gave  us  his 
story." 

"The  night  was  dark  and  Douglas  could  not  see 
much,"  Deering  remarked.  "I  expect  you  had  some- 
thing to  go  on  that  helped  you  fill  out  his  statement." 

The  sergeant  smiled.  "The  trooper  who  measured 
up  the  distances  and  made  a  plan  of  the  clearing  was 
a  surveyor's  clerk.  Then  Douglas  was  shot  in  the 
center  of  his  chest,  but  the  mark  at  the  back  was  to 
one  side.  Besides,  we  had  got  Mr.  Leyland's  hired 
man;  Miss  Jardine  put  us  on  his  track.  He  sure 
doesn't  like  Mr.  Leyland  but  his  tale  was  useful." 

"In  fact,  if  Mr.  Leyland  had  not  pulled  out,  you 
would  not  have  bothered  him?" 

"I  expect  that  is  so.  When  Stannard  sent  Mr. 
Leyland  off,  he  reckoned  to  give  us  a  useful  clue. 
Our  duty  was  to  try  the  clue." 

Jimmy  looked  up  sharply,  but  Deering  said,  "Stan- 
nard's  plan  was  good,  but  your  officers  are  not  fools. 
Then  another  thing  is  obvious;  if  you  had  tried  very 
hard,  you  might  have  hit  Mr.  Leyland's  trail  before." 

"It's  possible,"  the  sergeant  agreed  with  a  touch 
of  dryness.  "Maybe  the  bosses  were  after  Stannard. 
But  I  don't  get  it  all  yet.  Stannard  was  not  a  fool. 
I  guess  he  knew  we  couldn't  put  it  on  him  that  he 


BY  THE  CAMP-FIRE  291 

meant  to  shoot  Douglas.  Since  he  was  using  the  pit- 
light,  he'd  have  gone  to  the  pen,  but  I  guess  he  could 
have  stood  for  all  he  got.  Yet  when  he  saw  he  was 
corralled,  he  stepped  back  off  the  rocks!" 

"Stannard  was  an  English  highbrow.  A  year  or 
two  in  a  penitentiary  would  have  knocked  him  out 
Perhaps  this  accounts  for  it." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  the  sergeant,  "I  guess  we'll  let  it 
go.  For  three  nights  I've  shivered  on  the  rocks  and 
I  want  to  sleep." 

He  lay  down  on  the  branches  and  Jimmy  waited. 
The  smoke  was  gone,  the  fire  was  clear,  and  red  re- 
flections played  about  the  quiet  figures  at  the  bottom 
of  the  rude  wall.  After  a  time  Jimmy  thought  all 
slept  and  he  turned  to  Deering. 

"I  don't  know  if  the  sergeant  was  satisfied,  but 
I  am  not.  You  imply  that  when  Stannard  stepped 
back  he  knew  where  he  went?" 

Deering  pondered.  He  saw  Jimmy  was  disturbed 
and  puzzled,  but  he  doubted  if  there  was  much  use 
in  enlightening  him.  Stannard  was  gone.  Jimmy 
had  trusted  the  fellow  and  had  already  got  a  nasty 
knock.  Yet  if  he  had  begun  to  see  a  light,  Deering 
did  not  mean  to  cheat  him.  He  was  not  Stannard's 
champion. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it  certainly  looks  like  that." 

"But  why?  The  sergeant  thinks  they  would  not 
have  tried  Stannard  for  shooting  with  intent  to  kill; 
he  declares  Stannard  could  have  stood  for  all  he  got" 


292  NORTHWEST! 

"I  expect  that  is  so.  Sometimes,  however,  people 
are  not  logical.  For  example,  when  you  thought  you 
had  shot  Douglas,  you  pulled  out." 

"I  ought  to  have  stayed.  Now  I  think  about  it, 
Stannard  rather  persuaded  me  to  go,"  Jimmy  agreed 
and  looked  at  Deering  hard.  "When  you  recently 
found  out  Stannard  had  gone  to  my  help,  why  did 
you  go  after  him?" 

"For  one  thing,  I  knew  he  had  not  got  a  proper 
guide.  I  thought  the  job  a  man's  job,  and  Stevens 
and  Dillon  are  boys." 

"Somehow  I  feel  that's  not  all,"  said  Jimmy  and 
for  a  moment  or  two  was  very  quiet.  Then  he  re- 
sumed :  "When  Stannard  and  I  were  on  the  ledge  you 
were  at  the  corner.  I  was  going  to  jump  on  the  slab, 
but  you  shouted." 

"Sometimes  you're  rash.  When  you  jump  on  a 
rock,  you  want  to  know  the  rock  is  sound." 

"The  slab  was  not  sound,"  said  Jimmy  in  a  hoarse 
voice.  "Still  I  was  on  the  rope  and  Stannard  knew, 
if  I  went  down,  I  might  pull  him  off  the  ledge " 

He  stopped  and  Deering  saw  he  did  not  want  to 
solve  the  puzzle.  "It's  done  with  and  you're  a  stanch 
friend,"  he  resumed.  "Well,  I'm  very  tired." 

Deering  gave  him  a  sympathetic  nod,  and  pulling 
his  blanket  round  him,  got  down  on  a  pile  of  twigs. 
Jimmy  sat  with  his  back  against  a  log  and  looked  into 
the  gloom  behind  the  black  pine-tops.  High  up  on 
the  lonely  rocks  a  rotten  slab  dropped  to  the  gully, 
and,  but  for  Deering's  stanchness,  he  might  have  taken 


BY  THE  CAMP-FIRE  293 

an  awful  plunge.  In  the  meantime,  the  cold  was  keen, 
his  body  was  exhausted  and  his  brain  was  dull.  He 
did  not  know  much  and  did  not  want  to  know  all. 
The  thing  was  done  with  and  he  resolved  to  let  it 
go.  By  and  by  he  got  down  on  the  twigs  by  Deering, 
stretched  his  legs  to  the  fire  and  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  after  breakfast  the  sergeant  lighted 
his  pipe  and  stopped  the  troopers,  who  had  begun  to 
roll  up  their  packs. 

"We  won't  break  camp  yet,  boys,"  he  said  and 
turned  to  Deering.  "Mr.  Stevens  can't  stand  for  a 
long  hike  and  my  orders  were  to  bring  Stannard 
back." 

"Sometimes  the  police  orders  do  not  go,"  said 
Deering  dryly.  "Until  the  snow  melts  nobody  will 
bring  Stannard  back.  He  has  cheated  you." 

"I've  got  to  try  and  want  your  help." 

"You  can  reckon  on  mine,"  said  Dillon  and  looked 
at  Jimmy.  "Laura  must  be  satisfied— 

"That  is  so;  I'm  going  to  stay,"  said  Jimmy;  and 
when  Deering  agreed,  the  sergeant  ordered  a  trooper 
and  Gillane  to  start  for  the  railroad. 

He  stated  he  must  send  a  report,  and  Jimmy  and 
Dillon  gave  the  packer  some  telegrams.  The  men 
set  off  and  soon  afterwards  the  others,  leaving  Stevens 
to  watch  the  fire,  began  to  climb  the  long  steep  ridge 
behind  the  camp. 

The  effort  cost  them  much.     All  were  slack  ; 
tired  and  knew  their  labor  would  not  be  rewarded 
Yet  for  some  hours  they  struggled  across  the  snow- 


294  NORTHWEST! 

fields  and  searched  the  rocks  with  the  glasses.  In  the 
afternoon  they  went  back,  and  lying  about  the  fire, 
talked  and  smoked. 

At  daybreak  they  started  again  and  reached  higher 
ground.  The  day  was  bright  and  the  rocks  and  gullies 
were  distinct,  but  when  the  sun  sank  behind  the  range, 
they  had  found  nothing.  All  the  same,  Jimmy  saw 
that  when  Stannard  resolved  to  try  the  gully  his  judg- 
ment was  strangely  good.  There  was  not  another  line 
down  the  rocks  and  nowhere  but  at  the  bottom  could 
the  party  have  reached  a  slope  leading  to  the  trees. 
At  length  Deering  gave  the  sergeant  his  glasses. 

"Nothing's  on  the  big  gravel  bank  and  we  can't 
get  up  the  cliff,"  he  said.  "I  have  had  enough  and 
I  expect  you  are  satisfied.  Maybe  you'll  find  Stannard 
after  the  thaw,  but  when  he  stepped  off  the  rocks  I 
think  he  went  for  good." 

"I've  tried,"  said  the  sergeant.  "Let's  get  down. 
At  sun-up  we'll  pull  out  for  the  railroad." 

They  went  back,  but  after  supper  nobody  talked 
much.  Somehow  the  camp  was  gloomy  and  Jimmy 
fought  against  a  vague  sense  of  horror.  To  know 
they  would  take  the  trail  in  the  morning  was  some 
relief. 

At  daybreak  they  broke  camp  and  started  down- 
hill. All  were  glad  to  go,  but  when  they  reached  the 
valley  Jimmy  stopped  and  looked  up  at  the  distant 
white  streak  in  the  rocks.  Now  he  was  on  level 
ground,  to  picture  his  crawling  down  the  awful  gully 


BY  THE  CAMP-FIRE  295 

was  hard,  and  at  the  top  was  the  snow-bank  where 
Stannard  vanished. 

Jimmy  shivered,  but  after  a  few  moments  turned 
and  ran  to  join  the  others.  He  was  young,  the  sun 
was  on  the  mountains  and  the  doubts  and  horror  he 
had  known  melted  like  the  dark.  The  thing  was  done 
with,  the  load  he  had  carried  was  gone,  and  he  was 
free. 

Perhaps  it  was  strange,  but  he  began  to  perceive 
that  the  freedom  he  thought  he  enjoyed  with  Stannard 
was  an  illusion.  Stannard's  light  touch  was  very  firm 
and  he  had  led  Jimmy  where  he  did  not  mean  to  go. 
Laura,  not  knowing  all  she  did,  had  helped  him  to 
resist,  and  when  he  knew  Margaret,  Stannard's  con- 
trol was  broken.  It  looked  as  if  Stannard  had  not 
meant  to  let  him  go;  but  Jimmy  refused  to  speculate 
about  the  other's  plans. 

At  length,  so  to  speak,  he  was  his  own  man.  He 
had  paid  for  his  extravagance  and  extravagance  had 
lost  its  charm.  Now  he  knew  no  obstacle  to  his 
marrying  Margaret,  and  if  she  were  willing,  he  re- 
solved to  resume  his  proper  job  at  the  cotton  mill. 
When  he  thought  about  it  his  heart  beat,  but  Margaret 
was  not  yet  persuaded,  and  unless  she  knew  his  rela- 
tions approved,  to  persuade  her  might  be  hard.  Well, 
Sir  James  was  at  Vancouver;  in  fact,  he  was  perhaps 
at  the  hotel,  and  Jimmy  was  keen  to  meet  him. 

Progress,  however,  was  slow.  Broken  trees  and 
rocks  from  the  mountain  blocked  the  way,  fresh  snow 


296  NORTHWEST! 

had  fallen,  and  Stevens  was  lame.  He  had  slept  with 
his  wet  boots  on  and  his  foot  was  frostbitten.  Then 
Dillon  was  slack  and  moody.  His  fatigue  was  not 
gone,  and  if  Gillane  had  sent  the  telegrams,  when  the 
party  reached  the  settlement  Laura  would  be  waiting. 
Dillon  shrank  from  enlightening  her  and  Jimmy 
sympathized. 


XXXIII 

SIR   JAMES    APPROVES 

/"T"VHE  sun  was  low  but  the  light  was  good,  and 
•*•  Jimmy's  party,  crossing  a  hillside,  saw  a  long 
plume  of  smoke.  The  smoke  moved  and  when  it 
melted  the  rumble  of  a  distant  freight  train  rolled  up 
the  valley.  After  a  time,  they  saw  telegraph  posts, 
a  break  in  the  rocks,  and  two  or  three  small  houses. 
Then  their  fatigue  vanished  and  all  went  fast,  but 
Jimmy  was  sorry  for  Dillon,  whose  mouth  was  tight. 
Jimmy  thought  Laura  waited  at  the  railroad  and 
Frank  must  tell  her  Stannard  would  not  come  back. 
Moreover,  she  must  soon  know  Stannard  had  shot  the 
game  warden  and  was  willing  for  Jimmy  to  pay. 
When  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill  he  stopped 
Dillon. 

"I  expect  Laura  has  got  a  cruel  knock,  but  perhaps 
we  can  save  her  some  extra  pain.  If  you  take  the 
line  you  think  will  hurt  her  least,  I'll  play  up,  and 
you  can  trust  Deering." 

Dillon  said  nothing,  but  gave  Jimmy  a  grateful 
look.  Half  an  hour  afterwards  they  pushed  through 
a  belt  of  trees  and  saw  a  party  waiting  by  the  rail- 
road. It  was  obvious  the  telegrams  had  arrived. 
Although  the  people  were  some  distance  off,  Jimmy 

297 


298  NORTHWEST! 

picked  out  Margaret,  who  stood  by  a  man  he  did  not 
think  was  Jardine;  the  bush  ranchers  did  not  wear 
furs  like  his.  By  and  by  he  distinguished  Mrs.  Dillon 
and  Mrs.  Jardine,  Graham,  the  section  hand,  and  a 
police  trooper,  but  they  were  not  important  and  he 
speculated  about  the  stranger,  until,  when  the  track 
was  not  far  off,  he  saw  a  light.  Margaret's  com- 
panion was  Sir  James  Leyland. 

Jimmy  frowned.  His  uncle's  arrival  was  awkward, 
for  he  had  rather  hoped  to  work  on  Margaret's  emo- 
tion and  carry  her  away.  In  fact,  he  had  wondered 
whether  to  take  her  boldly  in  his  arms  might  not  be 
a  useful  plan.  Now  the  plan  would  not  work;  al- 
though when  he  stopped  in  front  of  Margaret  he  saw 
she  was  moved.  The  blood  came  to  her  skin  and  her 
glance  was  very  kind.  She  wore  an  old  fur  cap  and 
a  soft  deerskin  jacket;  in  fact,  her  clothes  were  a 
rancher's  daughter's  clothes,  but  somehow  she  was 
marked  by  a  touch  of  dignity.  She  gave  Jimmy  her 
hand  and  he  turned  to  his  uncle. 

"You  know  Miss  Jardine,  sir?" 

"It  looks  like  that,"  Sir  James  replied  with  a  smile. 
"Since  you  are  my  nephew,  I  felt  I  ought  to  know 
your  friends.  Then  Miss  Jardine  was  kind,  and 
seeing  my  curiosity,  helped  to  throw  some  light  upon 
your  romantic  adventures." 

Jimmy  gave  Margaret  a  grateful  look  and  laughed. 
"I  expect  you  were  puzzled,  sir?" 

"To  some  extent,  I  was  puzzled,"  Sir  James  agreed. 
"I'm  a  sober  and  perhaps  old-fashioned  business  man. 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  299 

The  golden  days  when  I  was  young  and  rash  are  gone, 
but  one  recaptures  a  reflection  of  their  vanished 
charm." 

"Ah,"  said  Jimmy,  "I  knew  you  were  human!  No 
days  were  golden  for  Uncle  Dick.  I  expect  you  know 
we  jarred?" 

"Dick  indicated  something  like  that,  but  he  has  a 
number  of  useful  qualities.  Perhaps  they're  inherited 
qualities,  because  I  think  one  or  two  are  yours.  For 
example,  I  went  to  see  your  ranch.  You  have  made 
good  progress,  on  sound  business  lines,  although  chop- 
ping trees  is  obviously  a  strenuous  job." 

"Do  you  know  much  about  ranching?"  Jimmy  in- 
quired. 

"I  do  not.  Miss  Jardine  thought  I  ought  to  see  the 
ranch  and  her  father  enlightened  me." 

Margaret  blushed  and  Sir  James  smiled.  "Friends 
are  useful,  Jimmy,  so  long  as  one's  friends  are  good; 
but  we  mustn't  philosophize.  They  are  cooking  some 
food  for  you  at  the  post  office  and  the  station  agent 
has  agreed  to  stop  the  Vancouver  express.  He  im- 
agines the  train  will  arrive  before  very  long." 

They  went  to  the  post  office  and  soon  afterwards 
the  train  rolled  down  the  gorge.  Jimmy  helped  Mar- 
garet up  the  steps,  gave  Peter  his  awkward  thanks, 
and  jumped  on  board.  By  and  by  the  cars  sped  past 
a  small  stone  hut  and  he  wondered  whether  he  was 
the  man  who  had  not  long  since  stolen  down  at  night 
to  meet  the  section  hand. 

When  they  reached  the  hotel  the  guests  Jimmy  had 


300  NORTHWEST! 

known  were  gone,  and  a  lonely  stranger  occupied  a 
room.  The  clerk  stated  they  would  shut  down  for 
the  winter  as  soon  as  the  party  went,  but  dinner  would 
be  served  as  usual  in  the  big  dining-room. 

Jimmy,  refreshed  by  a  hot  bath,  dressed  with 
luxurious  satisfaction.  To  wear  clean,  dry  clothes 
and  know  others  would  cook  his  food  was  something 
new.  When  he  went  downstairs  Sir  James  was  in  the 
rotunda. 

"Now  you  are  the  fashionable  young  fellow  I  ex- 
pected to  meet,"  he  remarked  with  a  twinkle.  "You 
see,  Dick  drew  your  portrait." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Jimmy,  "I  expect  I  bothered  Dick 
and  perhaps  he  was  a  better  friend  than  I  thought. 
All  the  same,  I  hope  to  persuade  you  the  portrait  was 
something  of  a  caricature." 

Sir  James  gave  him  a  thoughtful  glance.  "It  is  pos- 
sible. When  you  came  down  the  hill  at  Green  River, 
carrying  your  heavy  pack,  your  mouth  tight  and  your 
eyes  fixed,  I  knew  my  nephew.  Sometimes  when  the 
cheap  mill  engine  stopped  and  your  father  put  down 
his  pen  and  took  off  his  coat  he  looked  like  that.  Well, 
it's  long  since  and  I  have  got  a  title  I  did  not  par- 
ticularly want;  but  after  all  we  are  new  arrivals  and 

the  primitive  vein  is  not  yet  run  out "  He  stopped 

and  resumed :  "Mrs.  Dillon  is  in  the  drawing-room, 
but  we  must  wait  for  Miss  Jardine.  She  and  her 
father  are  my  guests." 

"You  are  kind,  but  I  thought  them  my  guests,  sir!" 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  301 

Sir  James  smiled.  "You  are  rather  dull,  Jimmy. 
After  all,  I  am  the  head  of  your  house." 

They  went  to  the  dining-room  and  at  the  door 
Jimmy  stopped.  Margaret  and  Jardine  crossed  the 
belt  of  polished  wood  between  the  pillars,  but  now 
Margaret  was  not  dressed  like  a  bush  girl.  The  deer- 
skin jacket  was  gone,  her  clothes  were  fashionable 
and  her  skin  shone  against  the  fine  dark-colored  ma- 
terial. Yet  she  was  marked  by  the  grace  and  balance 
one  gets  in  the  woods,  and  Jimmy  thought  her  step 
like  a  mountain  deer's.  Then  he  saw  his  uncle  studied 
him  and  he  crossed  the  floor. 

Mrs.  Dillon,  Frank  and  Deering  came  in,  but  al- 
though Sir  James  was  an  urbane  host  sometimes  the 
talk  got  slack.  Laura  had  not  come  down  and  another 
occupied  Stannard's  chair. 

The  stranger  Jimmy  had  remarked  dined  alone 
some  distance  off,  but  when  Mrs.  Dillon  got  up  he 
joined  the  group. 

"You  agreed  to  give  me  an  interview,"  he  said  to 
Sir  James. 

"That  is  so,"  Sir  James  replied.  "You  wanted  to 
see  my  nephew,  I  think,  and  since  we  may  talk 
about  Stannard,  I  would  like  Mr.  Deering  to  join 
us." 

They  went  to  the  rotunda  and  the  stranger  pulled 
out  some  documents.  He  was  old  and  rather  fat,  but 
his  clothes  were  fastidiously  neat  and  his  glance  was 
keen. 


302  NORTHWEST! 

"You  know  I'm  Mayson,  and  my  London  address 
is  on  my  card,"  he  said.  "The  card  does  not  state 
my  occupation,  but  I  lend  money." 

"I  imagined  something  like  that,"  said  Sir  James. 
"Stannard  was  your  partner?" 

"He  was  my  agent.  Stannard  belonged  to  exclusive 
sporting  clubs  I  could  not  join;  but  perhaps  this  is 
not  important.  I  understand  you  are  satisfied  he  is 
dead?" 

Deering  nodded.  "Nothing  made  of  flesh  and  blood 
could  stand  for  his  plunge  down  the  rocks." 

"Since  he  was  a  famous  mountaineer,  I  expect  you 
thought  his  carelessness  strange." 

"I  have  some  grounds  to  think  you  could  account 
for  it,"  said  Deering  dryly. 

"We  will  talk  about  this  again,"  said  Mayson  and 
turned  to  Sir  James.  "Mr.  Leyland  owes  me  a  large 
sum;  I  have  brought  his  notes." 

Sir  James  studied  the  documents  and  gave  them  to 
Jimmy,  who  admitted  the  account  was  accurate. 

"Very  well,"  said  Sir  James.  "My  nephew  meets 
his  bills.  The  interest  is  high,  but  he  must  pay  for 
his  extravagance.  Before  I  write  you  a  check,  I  want 
to  see  your  agreement  with  Stannard  and  would  like 
some  particulars." 

Mayson  gave  him  a  document,  and  when  Jimmy 
stated  that  he  knew  Stannard's  hand,  resumed: 
"Stannard  joined  me  some  years  since,  at  a  time  when 
he  was  awkwardly  embarrassed.  The  combine  had 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  303 

advantages.  Stannard  had  qualities  I  had  not;  his 
friends  were  fashionable  sporting  people.  For  all  that, 
he  was  bankrupt  and  I  supplied  him  with  money." 

"Exactly,"  said  Sir  James.  "Still,  perhaps  Stan- 
nard's  agreeing  to  tout  for  you  was  strange.  My 
nephew  thought  him  a  fastidious  gentleman.  There's 
another  thing:  since  he  was  willing  to  exploit  his 
friends,  did  you  not  imagine  he  might  cheat  you?" 

Mayson  smiled.  "Stannard  dared  not  cheat  me, 
and  perhaps  I  can  give  Mr.  Deering  the  light  he  wants. 
I  knew  something  about  Stannard  that,  had  others 
known,  would  have  broken  him.  When  we  made  our 
agreement,  he  declared  the  person  he  had  injured  was 
recently  dead  and  the  risk  he  ran  was  gone.  Perhaps 
he  was  sincere,  but  sometimes  I  doubt.  Not  long 
since,  when  he  began  to  keep  back  sums  I  ought  to 
have  got,  I  made  inquiries  and  found  out  that  another 
knew.  In  fact,  it  looked  as  if  Stannard  were  buying 
the  fellow's  silence  with  my  money.  Had  he  been 
frank,  I  might  have  broken  the  extortioner,  but  he 
was  not  frank.  I  think  he  knew  he  had  deceived  me 
about  the  agreement  and  was  afraid.  Anyhow,  he 
tried  to  meet  the  demands,  until— 

"I  think  I  see,"  'Said  Deering.  "You  do  not  yet 
know  all  Stannard's  plans  and  now  they're  not  im- 
portant. I  expect  we  can  take  it  for  granted  that  he 
imagined  the  demands  could  not  long  be  met.  Then 
he  saw  the  police  had  found  out  his  part  in  the  shoot- 
ing accident  and  he  went  down  the  rocks." 


304  NORTHWEST! 

"It  looks  like  that,"  Mayson  agreed. 

Deering  turned  to  Jimmy.  Jimmy's  look  was  stern 
and  his  brows  were  knit.  Deering  thought  he  saw  a 
light,  but  he  said  nothing  and  Sir  James  got  up. 

"If  you  will  go  with  me  to  the  office,  Mr.  Mayson, 
I  will  write  you  a  check." 

They  went  off  and  soon  afterwards  Dillon  joined 
Jimmy. 

"Laura  wants  to  see  you,"  he  said  in  a  disturbed 
voice.  "She  knows  Stannard  shot  Douglas,  and  it's 
now  obvious  he  meant  you  to  pay;  but  I  rather  think 
that's  not  all.  She  talks  about  her  not  being  justified 
in  marrying  me.  The  thing's  ridiculous;  if  Stannard 
was  a  crook,  she's  not  accountable,  but  my  arguments 
don't  carry  much  weight.  Perhaps  you  can  help. 
You  agreed  to  play  up." 

"I'll  try,"  said  Jimmy,  and  went  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

Nobody  but  Laura  was  about  and  her  forlorn  look 
moved  him.  Her  face  was  pinched  and  all  her  color 
was  gone,  but  she  gave  Jimmy  a  level  glance. 

"You  know  I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  and  taking  her  cold 
hand,  resumed  with  some  embarrassment:  "Frank's 
my  friend  and  you  were  very  kind.  Not  long  since 
I  thought " 

"You  thought  you  were  my  lover?"  said  Laura  in 
a  quiet  voice.  "You  were  lucky  because  you  were  not, 
but  had  you  agreed  to  go  back  to  the  cotton  mill,  I 
might  have  married  you.  Now  you  know  my  shab- 
biness." 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  305 

"I  know  nothing  like  that,"  Jimmy  declared.  "I 
do,  however,  know  I  owe  you  much.  You  were  the 
first  to  warn  me  where  my  extravagance  led.  Now 
I  want  to  help " 

"Ah,"  said  Laura,  "you  are  generous!  I  was  will- 
ing to  cheat  you  and  it's  plain  my  father  was  not 
your  friend." 

Jimmy  studied  her  and  thought  her  afraid.  In 
fact,  he  began  to  see  why  she  had  sent  for  him.  Laura 
was  keen;  she  knew  something,  but  he  imagined  she 
did  not  know  all.  Anyhow,  he  was  not  going  to  en- 
lighten her. 

"You  mustn't  exaggerate  the  importance  of  the 
shooting  accident,"  he  said.  "I  and  Mr.  Stannard 
used  our  rifles.  The  night  was  dark  and  I  imagined 
I  had  hit  the  warden.  I  expect  Mr.  Stannard  had 
no  grounds  to  think  the  unlucky  shot  was  his. 
Until  recently,  the  police  believed  the  shot  was 
mine." 

Laura  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  with 
an  effort  looked  up. 

"My  father  knew  the  rocks;  he  was  a  famous 
mountaineer.  Yet  when  the  police  sergeant  ordered 
him  to  stop  he  went  down  the  bank " 

"After  all,  his  carelessness  was  not  very  strange," 
Jimmy  replied.  "Mr.  Stannard  was  leader  and  had 
borne  a  heavy  strain;  in  fact,  we  were  all  exhausted 
and  our  nerve  was  gone.  Then  the  police  came  out 
of  the  mist,  the  sergeant  shouted,  and  Mr.  Stannard 
knew  they  claimed  he  had  shot  the  warden.  He  was 


306  NORTHWEST! 

startled  and,  so  to  speak,  mechanically  stepped 
back " 

He  stopped,  for  although  his  object  was  good,  he 
knew  Laura's  cleverness.  He  did  not  know  if  he 
had  altogether  banished  her  doubts,  but  she  gave  him 
a  grateful  look. 

"Frank  is  your  friend,"  she  said  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"He  wants  me  to  marry  him.  Are  you  satisfied  I 
ought  not  to  refuse?" 

"Why,  of  course  I'm  satisfied,"  Jimmy  declared. 
"You  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  shooting  accident; 
you  were  my  friend  before  Frank  was.  I  hope  we're 
friends  for  good.  To  refuse  to  marry  Frank  is  ridicu- 
lous. Since  I'm  persuaded,  you  ought  not  to  doubt." 

Laura  gave  him  her  hand. 

"You  are  stanch,  Jimmy,  but  I'm  tired,"  she  said, 
and  let  him  go. 

In  the  hall  Jimmy  met  Sir  James,  who  said,  "I  am 
going  for  a  quiet  smoke.  Will  you  join  me?" 

"Not  for  a  time,  sir.  Since  I  arrived  I've  been 
strenuously  occupied  doing  things  I  ought.  Now  I'm 
going  to  do  something  I  want  to  do." 

"For  example?"  Sir  James  inquired. 

"I'm  going  to  talk  to  Margaret.  I  hope  to  per- 
suade her  to  marry  me." 

"When  I  suggested  our  taking  a  smoke,  my  object 
was  to  inquire  about  your  friendship  for  Miss  Jardine. 
After  all,  I  am  your  trustee." 

"I  hope  you  approve  my  plan,  sir,"  Jimmy  rejoined. 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  307 

"You  know  where  to  stop,"  Sir  James  remarked 
with  a  twinkle.  "Perhaps  my  approval  carries  more 
weight  than  you  think;  because  had  I  not  approved, 
Miss  Jardine  would  not  have  agreed." 

"Then  you  have  talked  to  her  about  it?"  said  Jimmy 
with  keen  surprise. 

"Not  at  all;  Miss  Jardine  is  not  dull.  I  soon  saw 
she  understood  my  importance,  but  did  not  mean  to 
use  her  charm.  Her  friendliness  was  marked  by  some 
reserve.  In  fact,  it  was  plain  she  acknowledged  my 
business  was  to  judge  if  she  were  the  girl  for  you 
and  she  would  not  persuade  me.  Well,  I  liked  her 
pride,  and  although  we  did  not  talk  about  it,  I  rather 
think  she  knew  I  did  approve." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Jimmy  with  a  grateful  look. 

Sir  James  put  his  hand  on  Jimmy's  arm. 

"When  I  started  from  Bombay  I  was  bothered  about 
you.  Dick  had  found  out  something  about  Stannard 
and  he  imagined  that  Miss  Stannard  was  his  ac- 
complice." 

"Miss  Stannard  didn't  know  Stannard's  occupation. 
She  is  not  accountable  for  her  father." 

"That  is  so,"  Sir  James  agreed.  "I  think  Miss 
Stannard  a  charming  girl,  but  she  was  not  the  girl 
for  you.  Leylands  are  manufacturers  and  your  job 
is  to  control  a  big  industry;  Miss  Stannard's  is  to 
cultivate  her  social  talents  and  amuse  herself.  Mar- 
garet Jardine,  however,  is  our  sort.  She's  stanch  and 
sincere;  you  know  her  pluck  and  all  she  risked  for 


308  NORTHWEST! 

you.     You  want  a  wife  like  that,  and  I  wish  you 
luck!" 

Jimmy  found  Margaret  in  the  drawing-room.  Mrs. 
Dillon  had  gone  off  with  Laura,  and  Jimmy  advanced 
resolutely. 

"At  Green  Lake  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  and  you 
refused.  Yet  you  knew  I  loved  you  and  perhaps  I 

had  some  grounds  to  think " 

The  blood  came  to  Margaret's  skin.  "I  did  know, 
Jimmy;  but  to  marry  you  because  I  stopped  the 
trooper  was  another  thing." 

"Now  you're  ridiculous!  All  the  same,  in  some 
respects  your  refusal  was  justified.  My  drawbacks 
were  plain.  For  all  you  knew,  I  was  an  extravagant 
wastrel,  and  the  police  were  on  my  track.  Since  I 
mustn't  urge  you,  I  was  forced  to  be  resigned." 

"Sometimes  you  are  rather  dull,"  Margaret  re- 
marked and  smiled. 

"Well,  I'm  not  forced  to  try  for  resignation  now. 
I  was  something  of  an  extravagant  fool,  but  the 
police  will  leave  me  alone." 

"The  police  were  not  the  obstacle,"  said  Margaret 
in  a  quiet  voice. 

Jimmy  laughed.  "It  looks  like  that;  the  trooper 
who  tried  to  catch  us  did  not  bother  you  long.  If 
Sir  James  was  the  obstacle,  he's,  so  to  speak,  removed. 
You  have  conquered  him  and  he  declared  a  few  min- 
utes since  you  were  the  girl  for  me.  He's  a  kind  old 
fellow.  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  indulge  him?" 
He  reached  down  and  took  her  hands.  "I  want 


SIR  JAMES  APPROVES  309 

you,  Margaret.  My  extravagance  is  done  with.  I'm 
going  back  to  undertake  my  proper  job  and  I  need 
your  help." 

"Then  I  must  try  to  help,"   said  Margaret,  and 
Jimmy  took  her  in  his  arms. 


THE  END. 


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